MAY 2011 TOUR DIARY, Pt. Five: Walden and Home Again

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

* * *

I left Montréal Tuesday morning at 5 AM, so I could make it to my next signing, at the Thoreau Society in Concord, outside Boston, that afternoon.  It was a rainy, grey day.

Montpelier, Vermont in the early hours.

Vermont State Capitol.

I finally made it it to Concord, in a pounding rain.  Here's my set up.  If you could see out the window behind the screen you could almost make out the eastern shore of Walden Pond.

Photo by Fred J. Robertson.

The turnout was small but enthusiastic.  Just be be there was an incredible honor to me.

I stayed that night at the studio of artist/teacher Cara Bean.  Above:  Looking down on Moody Street, WalTHAM, Massachusetts.

An illustrated box by Ms. Bean.

The next day I had a lecture on Thoreau to give at a Lynn, Mass. High School.  Here is the large (200+ people?) crowd filing in.

Luckily, only a few of the students taunted me during the lecture!

Hooray.

Afterwards, I stopped by the Science Lab, where I met these adorable Blandings Turtles (one of Thoreau's favorite animals...).

(For more on my visit to Lynn Classical HS, click here!)

Bay outside Swampscott, cloudy day.

The Boston skyline gradually emerges.

The next morning I hit the road for Albany, NY, a place I'd never been, to visit one of my favorite people in the world, Patrick Porter.

The first thing I did in Albany was step in this puddle.

Washington Park bandshell, Albany.

Tricked out chrome Saturn.  The picture doesn't do it justice.

New York State Capitol Building.

Porter: The Halls of Power™.

View from the Egg.

Can someone please let me know what these mysterious stone holes are, just east of the The Egg?

Allegedly the red brick building in the center of this photo is a veritable museum of graffiti inside.

Patrick in the Concourse, below the Capitol, featuring artwork from the Nelson Rockefeller Collection.

Detail of one of Patrick's paintings.

Porter sketch.

Home Decor®.

"I'm scared.  I wanna go home."

Porter Stylee Sweater Rack.

Bright eyed and bushy tailed, after a night of sleep in an upstate NY rest area.

Lake Eerie.

Before long I was once again in Mysterious Cleveland.  And once again I just passed through without stopping. Can someone please explain the Cleveland underground scene to me?  There must some zine-friendly/comix-friendly shops there, right?

Downtown Cleveland from the interstate.

Back in the midwest.

Dan Ryan, Wednesday night. (Everyone's at the Bulls game.)

Home Sweet Home.

TOTAL MILES: 2,530.1

Special Thanks to Alex and all at Pop Sandbox, Chris Butcher and Peter Birkemoe (TCAF/Beguiling), Kingston Homies, Julie D., Chester, and all at D+Q, Mike Frederick, Cara Bean, Kelly Hourihan and all at Lynn Classical, Porter and Amber, and Price Chopper for the place to pee.

HEE HAW: The Art of PATRICK PORTER

"My brain feels like a saxophone; it's all downhill from here..." 

-- Patrick Porter

Some of you who know me well, or who have been following my online chattering for awhile, will have heard me go on and on about my friend Partick Porter.  Patrick is an artist-- writing novels and poetry, painting, and making music.  In this post, I wanted to share some of Patrick's art with you, cuz it's some of my favorite stuff ever.

I met Patrick sometime in 1993 or so, when he was 15 years old.  I was at Wax Trax one day (legendary Denver underground nexus), and picked up a copy of his zine, Our Comics Suck.  In it he expressed his wishes to buy an old Fender guitar, and I had a Duo-Sonic that I never used anymore, so I wrote him a letter telling him about it.

A few days later Patrick came over to my apartment to look at the guitar.  It was a piece of junk, to tell the truth.  It'd been stripped and "refinished" with a sticky, gloppy dark brown stain, and the neck was jerryrigged onto the body with ugly bolts.  Didn't sound too good either.  But it was cheap.  Patrick agreed to buy the guitar for $125 (a rip-off, looking back), but he only had $75 on him.  I took the money and said pay me the rest when you can.

(You can read another version of this event in the story "Lost and Found," in King-Cat Classix.)

Turns out Patrick loved that guitar, and used it in his band Neglected Lawn, up in Bailey, in the mountains, where he lived.  But he never got back to me with the remaining payment.  I kind of figured he never would, but then one day that fall he called me up and said he was in town, and he had the money.

I drove down to DU and he came out of the apartment, with, no shit, a plastic bag with $50 in change in it.  Pennies and everything.  That's when I knew I was dealing with a special person.

Years passed.  Patrick learned jazz guitar, and began making his own music.  I moved back to Chicago, Patrick shifted all over the country.  We had some kind of weird bond, and many 2 AM phone calls ensued.  We became really good friends.  I never had one in real life, but in many ways Patrick is the closest thing I've ever had to a brother.

The stuff Patrick makes is messy and brilliant, and deeply beautiful and sad, to me.  His music is some of my favorite music in the world.  One day Patrick decided to start painting, and lo and behold he was good at that too.  He likes to paint because he doesn't know how. 

Over the years his music has grown from funny punk noise to hushed shoegazery pop, to his current style, which is a splattery mix of crazy/delicate singing, smart lyrics, trashcan/luminous guitar, drums, piano, reverb, and haunting beauty.  Real beauty, like looking out at the real world.  Even before Patrick started making canvases, I felt like his songs were paintings.  They have that feel to me.  People looking for the latest "indie rock" car commercial are going to be confused and knocked back by this kind of thing.  It's real art by a real artist.

Without going into details, Patrick has lived an oftentimes rough life.  Of all my many poor friends, Patrick is the only one who, to my knowledge, has ever spent nights on park benches.  To me this is a crime.  But that's America™ for you, right?

I'm including here some videos, images, and poems, plus links where you can find more of his work.  I hope you enjoy it.

--John P.

Patrick Porter Wikipedia entry

* * *

MUSIC

Patrick has released over ten full length albums, on various small labels.  His 2007 recording, A Swan at Smiley's, is, I think, a masterpiece.  His latest album, the achingly warm, crazy, and funny Bachelor Pad Blue; Bent Pants and Stray Cats, has not yet been "officially" released, but is available for download from bandcamp.com.

For studio versions of his songs, please visit:
Patrick's Bandcamp site
Myspace site with art and music
More unruly songs

Recommended tracks for first time listeners:
"Bond Funeral Home"
"Wait For Another"
"Hee Haw"
"Feed From a Holy Lite"
"Fogelburg"
"Hollywood is a Word on a Wall"


Video for "Wait for Another," from A Swan at Smiley's:


"When The Summer's On" live in NYC


Patrick Porter Plays "Hee Haw" Live Behind The TV Set:

* * *

ART

Coconut Soop (2007)

Ten Million Mules (2008)

Freeway (2008)

Band (2009)

Quiet Girl (2009)

Schdy 1 (2009)

Video: Patrick Porter Paints Live From His Horse Pillow:


Video: Patrick Porter-- District Attorney Painting, In Progress:



Patrick's etsy shop

* * *

POETRY

Just a few short samples:

OCEAN

my house
is in
the
middle
of the
ocean

i open
doors
and the
waves
push me
through

i have
to walk
with
conviction

from
crag to
crag

the
water
is warm
milk
white



MINER

I spend
My time

Mining
Diamonds

From
Atop

A floral
Mattress

I eat
Raw glass

And widen
My eyes

I mine
Diamonds

In my
Own
Likeness



HOME

I have
To
Talk
Backwards

Just
To make
Sense

I have
To
Walk
Backwards

Just
To get
Home


Patrick's blog