Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Photographic Evidence

OK--I'm not kidding when I said I sculpt busts of screaming men.  I do need to amend "screaming" to something like "extremely worried" men, though--at least in these photos.  I'm bad about photographing my work--I made a gorgeous card for my niece-in-law's baby shower and fortunately was able to coerce my niece Corinne into taking a snap at the actual event (which I'm sorry I wasn't able to attend although I AM glad I  missed out on the Smell the Baby Poop party game). 

Back when we didn't know any better, I had scrawled "Fredman #1  5/28/83" on the reverse of this one. 

This is a much more improved bust, Fredman #2, part of my "Extremely Worried" period.  My sister Sally has this one.  They got better over the years but now that I'm happily married and retired, my need to express myself through clay has gone away, hopefully just for a little while.  That's how I am with my artistic endeavors--I need to get a certain "feeling" in my hands before I can do something.  These days, it's all directed at the computer.  Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

Now, the pimp-a-liciousness.  That's moi (the gal on the right) at King Arthur's Lounge in San Francisco in the early 70's.  That's my sister Sally and her first husband, Curly, and Earl, the "baby pimp" I dated prior to moving on to the "major pimps."  Please notice the requisite rabbit coat, heavy blue eye shadow and bleached blonde hair.  Sally looks like a fresh-faced virginal peasant girl next to me.  (Ha!).

Here's a poem I wrote, dated 8/13/73, when I was deep in the pimp thang:

Sweet mack -
Player man.
Clothed in the rags of
Society hates you
  for doin' what you do--
Society envies you, 'cause
  you got the Game.

Sweet mack -
Player man.
Diamonds drippin' like raindrops
  from the bad black clouds of
  your fingertips.
Dressed in colors that put peacocks
  to shame,
Ridin' in rides fit for a king . . .
Your flash is blinding
  And it's all in your game.

Sweet, sweet, SWEET mack -
Words laden with honey.
Always catching, bumping, trying to score.
Player man: what's your future for?

And for something completely different--here's me and Boss Man after we'd won 5th place at a Northern California horse show.  Would have been about 1968.  Believe me when I tell you those hills are now covered with multi-million dollar homes.

I wish I could find the photos of me and Mustang Eddie with us both wearing pimp hats--and then there's the one of me in the platinum blonde Afro wig . . .


  1. You are a riot! Oh, excuse me, I meant, you are very deep, man! The second face looks like Porky Pig in agony!

  2. Did you lead a double life? The sweet little cowgirl or pimp daddy's arm candy? Who is the real Christine? That is hilarious. And what did sister Sally say about your choice of boyfriends? Boy oh boy, a shrink would have a field day with you!

  3. I went to a shrink once. He told me all my problems were caused by my mother. I told him to go to hell. Maybe because I never had children (who shame easily), I really don't give a rat's behind what my family thinks about my life. All things considered, it's turned out rather well and I have LOTS of great stories! Back then, with my family in Alabama and me in San Francisco, my choice of boyfriends wasn't an issue, just sort of "Christine's aberration out there in nutso-land." Now I'm just Crazy Aunt Gogie!!

  4. you are making me grin. the pimp guy looks just like a guy i went to high school with. i always wanted to bleach my hair--but didn't have the guts to do it until i turned 45. but i did rock the blue eye shadow. love the little screaming men.

  5. Crazy Aunts are good! Glad to hear you told the shrink to go to hell. Good stories are worth their weight in gold. Hoping we will hear some more soon.

  6. I've been wanting to hear more about that chapter of your life since reading your "about me list". So intriguing!! Thanks for sharing!