Wednesday, November 28, 2018

San Francisco



Enjoyed my first visit with Julian in 1976. Spent time there every summer thereafter, culminating in three months living on Russian Hill in 1980. Visited the city, Big Sur, Russian River, Napa Valley, and more with Julian, Jake, Lynn, and repeatedly with Darryl. Love nearby Muir Woods and Sausalito, Favorite neighborhood is North Beach where City Lights Bookstore and Cafe Trieste are.


One of our favorite hangouts is Cafe Flore. 

Neighborhoods we like: North Beach

Nob Hill
Fillmore St (restaurants)

Golden Gate Park (Japanese garden and the museum)

Fisherman's Wharf

Castro Street

Land's End (and museum)

Lombard Street and Coit Tower





City Lights Bookstore
Lawrence Ferlinghetti 



Darryl In North Beach
My home on Russian Hill, 1980

View from our house.
Julian at work with our garden behind him. 











Monday, November 26, 2018

Art of Film (updated and revisited)



The Art of Film -- Revisited



Who's your daddy? ... Chinatown

What makes a film a valuable work of art? The answer is complicated by the fact that there are many different ways for a film to make manifest what its subject or subjects are. For meChinatown is a great film because it 1) Tells an intriguing story on two levels, the story of the building of Los Angeles, and the corruption it entailed; the love story of two unlikely lovers caught up in the larger story. 2) It does this visually as well as through dialogue and narration. The images and scenes of the film are key to the unfolding of the story. Music and cinematography are essential exciting elements. 3) the film is coherent despite the intricacies and complexity of plot, unfolding of characters, and surprising revelations. The characters in the film change and grow more aware as the story unfolds. 4) The film is brilliant with profound insights into character, history, human nature, love, corruption, the power of evil, capitalism, naivete, and disillusionment, to name a few. It is a dark story, but whether a film is "uplifting," or depressing, or shocking, or whatever does not matter so long as it possesses such qualities as the above four. My one caveat is that I am bored with the contrived "Hollywood ending," resembling the unnecessary, but now too often performed, "happy ending" to a good massage.

Recent films I think excel, some of which I've posted commentary* :

On The Road (review)

Weekend *
Melancholia by Lars Van Trier*
Take This Waltz by Sarah Polley  (review)
Perks of Being a Wallflower (review)
Dangerous Method (review)


Past Films that have shaped my life and my understanding of life include:



Rashomon
by
 Akira Kurosawa
 
(truth is subjective)


But this is just a sampling.
It is also essential to mention the great directors whose films have shaped my life:


Federico Fellini, Bernardo Bertolucci, Alfred Hitchcock, Roman Polanski, Werner Fassbinder, Ken Russell, Peter Greenaway, 
Lina Wertmüller, Derek Jarman, Pedro Almodovar, Ang Lee, John Waters, Ingmar Bergman, Louis Malle, Pier Paulo Pasolini, Kurosawa, Luis Bunuel, John Cameron Mitchell, Sarah Polley  and good old Woody Allen
(all are clickable)


The one
we sat down
and had a drink with:
John Waters--
Wikipedia

--Jameson 

Updated for 2012-2018:

Hedwig and the Angry Inch
There Will Be Blood
Paterson
God's Own Country
Get Out
The Before Sunrise trilogy of films
Moonlight
The Budapest Hotel
Call Me By Your Name
Mudbound


Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Day of the Dead


Dia de los Muertos Revisited

Huichol Skull with Peyote 

"When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past..."

Now is a time, traditionally, to honor the dead, especially our family and those we have loved. Naturally, I think of my parents both of whom suffered long, dreadful ends to their lives. I think of my two grandmothers to whom I was so close, whose affection warmed my heart and both of whom helped create the values I've held since childhood. Fond memories arise of my husband Darryl's grandmother, Aunt Edna, and his mother. I think too of my friends' loved ones and parents, especially life-long friend Lee Killian's parents who were always sweet and kind to me, and of Lee's uncles. I think of Julian Baird of San Francisco, my first gay lover, who invited me to San Francisco many times, with whom I lived for several months on Russian Hill. There are many other cherished friends now hid in death's dateless night, in the words of WS.




As The Day of the Dead and All Saints' Day arrive, my thoughts and emotions go back exactly thirty years. My closest friend, my kindred spirit, from 1969 until 1986 was murdered that October. His mother and family had his body taken back to Tulsa to be buried there, and they flew his companion and myself in their private plane to Tulsa. I recall it all as if yesterday, the flight, seeing Jim's mother, my primal scream, and seeing people masked with images of death everywhere we went in Tulsa. It was surreal and I had no idea what to do. I just let others lead me around. I gave a ring I wore that I bought in Mexico with Jim to be placed in his casket. His mother introduced me to her friends at the funeral as "like a son to Jim." 

Jim was the first person with whom I visited Mexico in 1971. We returned two more times and we both kept journals of our rich and powerful experiences throughout the country. We both lived at Johnny Mercer's home on Moon River and Jim completed his book on Keats and Yeats there. By our last trip together to Mexico, when Jim spent a year teaching there, I was already studying D.H. Lawrence for my Master's thesis and degree at Tulane, the university where we both earned our doctorates. When I moved from New Orleans back to Savannah, we held readings aloud of Proust, with a few friends, in the garden courtyard of my apartment on Oglethorpe Ave. In the early 1980s we alternated teaching the same course in Philosophy at Armstrong-Atlantic University in Savannah.


It was through Jim that I met Jake. Jim wrote a series of poems to Jake. In 1976 Jake and I became fast friends as we traveled together to New Orleans and a year later in '77 to San Francisco and Big Sur. We drove cross country and had intimate experiences that Jake called "enterprises of great pith and moment" (WS again). Later we both studied law and moved to Atlanta to attend Law School and work together in the Law Library of Ga. State University.

On the day of Jim's funeral on November 1, 1986, after the service and a gathering of the family, I flew back to Atlanta to attend Jake's wedding. Thus the surreal play of Thanatos and Eros in my disoriented psyche that day. Festivities of the Day of the Dead, of Día de Muertos, always conjure that day for me. And on the day itself, and those leading up to it, I dance in memory with them both, Jim and Jake. I feel their spirits around me and praise those remarkable years we shared together. 










James Land Jones


Jake Waldrop



Jack 

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

VOTE



Jack--
Early voting continues this week across Georgia for the upcoming November 6th election. Whether you’re LGBTQ or an ally, the stakes are too high to sit this election out!
Georgia Equality has endorsed the following candidates:


Governor: Stacey Abrams 
Lt. Governor: Sarah Riggs Amico 
Secretary of State: John Barrow 
Attorney General: Charlie Bailey 
Labor Commissioner: Richard Keatley 
Agriculture Commissioner: Fred Swann 
Public Service Commission (District 3):  Lindy Miller
Public Service Commission (District 5): Dawn Randolph

STATE SENATE:
SD 6: Jen Jordan (i)
SD 29: Valerie Haskins
SD 40: Sally Harrell
SD 41: Steve Henson (i)
SD 44: Gail Davenport (i)
SD 46: Marisue Hilliard
SD 48: Zahra Karinshak
SD 56: Ellyn Jeager


STATE HOUSE OF REPRESENATIVES:
HD 23: Adam Wynn*
HD 36: Jen Slipakoff
HD 37: Mary Frances Williams
HD 39: Erica Thomas (i)
HD 40: Erick Allen
HD 50: Angelika Kausche
HD 52: Shea Roberts
HD 56: Able Mable Thomas (i)
HD 57: Pat Gardner (i)
HD 58: Park Cannon (i)*
HD 60: Kim Schofield (i)
HD 79: Michael Wilensky
HD 80: Matthew Wilson*
HD 81: Scott Holcomb (i)

HD 84: Renitta Shannon (i)*
HD 85: Karla Drenner (i)*
HD 86: Michelle Henson (i)
HD 95: Beth Moore
HD 97: Aisha Yaqoob
HD 99: Brenda Lopez (i)
HD 101: Sam Park (i)*
HD 102: Gregg Kennard
HD 105: Donna McLeod
HD 107: Shelly Hutchinson
HD 108: Jasmine Clark
HD 109: Regina Lewis-Ward
HD 111: El-Mahdi Holly
HD 113: Pam Dickerson (i)
HD 117: Deborah Gonzalez (i)
HD 119: Jonathan Wallace (i)
HD 144: Jessica Walden
HD 153: Camia Hopson
HD 161: Adam Bridges*
HD 179: Julie Jordan*

Gwinnett County:
County Commission District 2: Ben Ku*
County Board of Education District 2:Wandy Taylor


* denotes an openly LGBTQ candidate or incumbent


LGBTQ Films of Note



Here are the LGBTQ films I think are works of art, as well as profound portrayals of gay or bisexual characters.

Moonlight

God's Own Country

Beautiful Thing

Weekend

Carol

Blue is the Warmest Color

Cabaret

Milk

Brokeback Mountain

Maurice

My Beautiful Laundrette

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

A Single Man

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

Call Me By Your Name

Mulholland Drive

Law of Desire

Women in Love

Y Tu Mama Tambien

Bad Education

Shortbus

A Home at the End of the World

Esteros

Satyricon

Big Eden

History Boys


James Land Jones



James Land Jones


1934-1986






Friend, Mentor, Kindred Spirit



Mom, Jim, and John in Atlanta
Jim at Moon River 

Jim in Savannah, 1970 


Moon River
.....The Johnny Mercer House at Moon River where Jack and Jim lived in the early 1970s


Author of Adam's Dream: Mythic Consciousness in Keats and Yeats, Jim was also President of the Savannah Chapter of the Georgia Poetry Society, founder of the Oklahoma journal Nimrod, and a prize- winning poet. One of his best poems is


Belle Isle


Late spring and night. Rain-scented air
Surrounds us like a presence. Ahead,
Past threaded rivers, Belle Isle waits.
Beyond, St. Catherine's Sound unreels, a bolt
Of crumpled purple-silver, into the far horizon.


For months we've said we'll boat out to Belle Isle.
Now lightning plays about us in the shuttered trees.
Transparent knives of moonlight sculpt your face
Between my hands. Your eyes, grown deeper blue,
Compel my lips as birds are drawn to air.


I wait, a silk banner to be filled by you.
Give body to my body through your body.
Turn my empty cloth into a sail.
So fitted, voyager, what is Belle Isle to me?
I would explore the rivers of you all my life. 



Written "For Jack--14 Sept 1984--with love."

Saturday, August 04, 2018

Hope for the Future














When I first explored Hellas (Greece), I sent a postcard to my closest friend. I praised the beauty of the country, it's monuments of civilization and the natural beauty I saw everywhere. He replied that he too loved what is left of the world we are destroying. 
It was a year before his murder. 

As I continue in my 8th decade, the awareness grows that there will be no return to the world I inhabited in the 1980s. Many places I loved then are gone now. This is the way of history. Only now there is something not happening in the normal course of history. The devastation has grown exponentially. Why, just flying anywhere now reveals how much we have fouled the atmosphere. Few today have ever looked from an airplane window and seen a clear blue sky to the horizon as I once did. Now there is haze, often thick haze, below, reaching to a foggy horizon. Toxic smoke arises from global wildfires, dust storms, and countless smoke stacks. Even our rivers catch fire. The destruction from climate change we cause is no longer reversible. The will, itself, to reverse the pollution is insufficient.

In the film about Queen Victoria and her charming friend, Abdul, from India, there is a scene in which Victoria describes herself as a useless old woman. Abdul tells her to think not of herself or even her family, but of service. In service, he suggests, lies ones deeper purpose, whatever the service involves. 

There are few experiences more fulfilling than the sense of helping others, especially helping others learn. For that reason my continuing to work past 70 makes sense. I am blessed to be able to do that part-time.

Nonetheless, I harbor no hope of better times ahead. I may never see my beloved Kalani again because of the volcanic eruption and burning of so much of that part of the Big Island of Hawaii. The Earth is not going to recover the pristine beauty it once possessed. There are of course still beautiful places and wildlife to behold; but they are being destroyed by our own over-population, pollution, industrial development, exploitation, and the indifference of most people. I have no delusions that the destruction will stop or that technology will come to the rescue, or that people will all become enlightened. 

Buddhism, which loves life and has compassion for all, and pantheism which worships nature and the joys of living are the only two religions that offer hope for the world. All the others point to some ethereal, alternate realm, making little or nothing of the beauty of this world and the joys of our lives now, as opposed to some fantastical, other-worldly paradise not of this Earth. Corporations and greedy leaders out for power and their own gain, use religion to promote complacency, to con people into suffering and illness for a supposed after-life. One has only to think of the billions of people who would supposedly populate heaven and hell to grasp how absurd and self-destructive such an illusion is.

As I continue to witness the corruption, the racism, the greed, the cruelty, and the ruin of nature and wildlife, reason compels me to agree with Plato about democracy. In an indifferent, ignorant, and hateful populace arise such terror and ugliness. Is it too absurd to ask that our leaders be educated, experienced in governing, and demonstrating a love for diversity and all the people they lead?

If you trust corporations and those who represent and praise them, I suggest the enlightening episodes of the Untold Story:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Untold_History_of_the_United_States










Sunday, July 08, 2018

A Preference for World History over U.S. History


From my earliest recollections of studying history in school, I preferred World History. It must have been in what is now called middle school that I first encountered the history of China and, more broadly,  Asia. I'm sure the accounts we got of the dynasties in China were simplistic; but I do recall loving the art we learned about, and the mystical paintings of singular sages climbing the heights of mountains for a wiser, more encompassing view. 

In high school I loved European history and took a special class that showed us the English perspective on the American Revolution. The course was a revelation and taught me at a fairly young age that history is subjective to a degree few realize.


Shen Zhou (1427 – 1509)
Period: Ming Dynasty
Also in European History, I studied the French Revolution, learning how quickly governments can transform. I wrote a paper on The Directory and how the revolutionary government of France became the empire of Napoleon.
Naturally I took courses in U.S. History and in Georgia History. From early on I despised them both for the treacherous treatment and lying treaties our leaders made with Native Americans. Georgia history bored me to tears. I was outraged by the maltreatment of slaves as well. When it came to the U.S. and Mexico, the takeover and ultimate annexation of Texas, the war with Mexico, and the seizure of most of the West were all despicable. I don't recall the attitude of the teachers, but they must have let us react as we chose as we read of all the atrocities. I thought Andrew Jackson to be the vilest of the presidents, and I still place him right there with DT as an egotistical bigot. 
Elizabeth "Betsy" Brown Stephens (1903), a Cherokee Indian who walked the Trail of Tears in 1838
I am not taken aback by the atrocities we are now committing. The good presidents and other leaders who have cared about the poor or shown humanitarian values are the exception, not the rule. Humans are cruel and selfish, even when it comes to their own well-being. Religion is no exception. To the contrary, some of the worst atrocities in human history have taken place because of religion. Artists and philosophers have given us visions of peace and love, of a higher value than selfishness; but face the truth: very few people are genuine artists or philosophers. Plato's Republic was an ideal, never realized.To hope for utopias is futile. Aristotle was incorrect when he said that the distinguishing characteristic of humans is that they are rational. 
For thousands of years the wisest and most perceptive, creative people have given us visions of compassion, peace, love for others, civilization at its best. For thousands of years those visions have been rejected by corrupt leaders and even by the people themselves. Now, as never before, the Earth itself is under attack, along with all life on the planet. But humans are just too limited in their mental capacities to see the truth, much less do anything about it. While the peaceful choose the way of "Don't worry, be happy," the way of the three monkeys who refuse to acknowledge evil, the cruel, greedy ones increase their destruction. Like Loki, they undermine everything of value, the paradise that could have been. It is not the eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil that sealed our doom; it is the will to ignorance, the stubborn refusal to know. The sin is not eating the apple, or the fig. The sin is refusing to eat it.


Buddha attained enlightenment beneath the fig tree. 




Jameson


Monday, June 18, 2018

The Evolution of Same-Sex Love ( Man in an Orange Shirt)





How much has changed in gay love since the end of World War II? This story by Patrick Gale does give us the differences; but it also gives us the ways in which some things have not changed. Michael Berryman and his grandson Adam share important traits. For instance, both men try unsuccessfully to hide their true natures from Flora Berryman, portrayed in her later years with painful depth and sympathy by Vanessa Redgrave. Neither grandfather nor grandson is willing to commit to homosexual love, regardless of the date.

While Michael chooses to abandon his love life for a traditional family, one involving untold pain for both himself and his wife, Adam has the good fortune of meeting someone who knows how to win his heart and turn him from sex aps to real human contact. The sensitivity, the subtlety, and the patience required to do this is beautifully fulfilled by David Gyasi (who was astounding as Achilles in "Troy, Fall of a City.")

Of course, one of the necessary revelations for Adam is learning of his grandfather's story. I love the way the painting is used as a device for exposing Michael's denial of his own love. It also gives emotional depth to the heart-broken Flora.

Things fall in place in a way that does stretch belief. That Steve is an architect as well as an excellent lover is perhaps too fortuitous. I do love the archetype of the cottage as love nest. That Flora kept it rather than selling it also tells us a good bit about Flora. Even she, once disgusted by the idea of gay sex,  ultimately comes down on the side of love.

That the generation in between is missing stirs some curiosity. We never learn about Adam's parents at all. Does that not matter? What happened to Thomas? Did he move to France and find romance? And was the cottage used by Michael for other love affairs Flora did not know about?  How are we to take Caspar and his relationship to Steve? (I enjoyed seeing Julian Sands again. Long ago he made a film here where I live). That the story leaves us curious about many other possible relationships makes the story seem incomplete. Life is not quite as simple as Man in an Orange Shirt makes it.

There are a number of humorous witticisms in the story. How many caught the fact that the young lovers who find each other are Adam and Steve? There are other clever and touching details in this film. We should all be so lucky as to meet someone like Steve.




Note: As it turns out, there was once a second part, or middle part, that was left out, a part addressing the questions I have raised. Here is a marvelous interview with the author:

https://www.radiotimes.com/news/2018-06-14/patrick-gale-reveals-the-secrets-of-man-in-an-orange-shirt/


--Jack








Friday, June 01, 2018

Who Are You?


Call me Jack

Jack, Manhattan, 
Photo by Dar

I am a Savannah boy, since I was born there and lived there until I went to college. That's how one starts, right? The colleges certainly are an essential part of my identity-- U.Va., Sewanee, Tulane, Emory University are the major ones. Left Va. for Sewanee in order to change majors (math to philosophy) and for reasons of love and sexual identity.
 Degrees? B.A., M.A., M.Ln., 
Ph.D. in Philosophy (Tulane). My Doctoral Dissertation was on Philosophy of Art--

 My Master's Thesis was on D.H. Lawrence and Native Americans. I visited Taos, NM, Hampstead Heath, Land's End in Cornwall, and Lake Chapala, Mexico.

In the areas of literature and philosophy: Shakespeare to the Beats;  Plato, Descartes and Whitehead;  the existentialists, especially Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.  Novels have shaped who I am: Tolstoy, James Baldwin, Iris Murdoch, Alan Hollinghurst, Edmund White...and works from the Romantic poets to Michel Foucault. And that doesn't even touch on the art and artists I love...

I've had a long career in teaching and librarianship: Two universities, two art colleges, two high schools, and the High Museum of Art along with other oddities like Law Librarian at the Georgia State University Law School. Teaching for 17 years at the Atlanta College of Art was especially rewarding. During those years I wrote articles and reviews for Art Papers and other publications. I met wonderful students who are still making art today. Kara Walker took two of my elective classes. And many students and colleagues are now among my Facebook friends. Teaching is a two-way avenue. 
It was also during this time that we collected much of the art we now own, the Larry Connatser paintings, for instance, art from Mexico and South America, and the photographs of my friend Paula Gately Tillman. I also own Hogarth engravings and a work by Aristide Maillol. 

Since the age of 18 I have kept journals. My first trip to Europe in 1970 was as formative as any college course. I spent three months there, writing Journal 5, traveling by Eurail pass, soaking up art and history as never before.  Seeing the world and other cultures has always been an inspiration vital to me.

Japan, April 2013

 My relationships, like my train trips in Europe from country to country, crossed the landscapes, the bodyscapes of intimacy and sexuality.  I was a Hippie in the 70's and thank Dionysus for it. It was then I found lifelong friends Jim and Julian, now deceased, who added so much to my life and are the subject of a novella I wrote. Savannah, New Orleans, Mexico, and San Francisco (where I lived on Russian Hill), with frequent jaunts to New York and New England, were my fertile crescent and home during the 70s. Those were the days of meeting Allen Ginsberg, W.S. Merwin, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti-- A time of art, music, theater, and philosophy. It was the time when I met the wonderful actor and my close friend, Joseph Mydell.

Today, I am married to my darling, Darryl Gossett. We have a nexus of relationships with others. Our travels and life together fill many of the pages of this Blog. He is a talented editor and award winning writer (His article on Alzheimer's) (Edith Honeycutt --with whom we had a delightful dinner).  My aim now is to shift from critical writing to more creative writing, such as my "Art Memo" and several reviews in The Gay and Lesbian Review, Worldwide, (another link to the essay is Art Memo; and to my most recent review, Alfred Corn's Miranda's Book). I continue to teach, continue writing essays, poetry, short stories;  and  creating a photographic vision in sync with my writing, Poems and Short stories: Apricocks and 4 Way.

But enough about me...

Here's to my friends, loved ones, and artists I've encountered: These portraits are among the best of my accomplishments, not to mention the relationships we have nurtured that made them possible. 




To the chief intensity: the crown of these
Is made of love and friendship, and sits high
Upon the forehead of humanity.
 

Keats-- Endymion.

Jack