https://rosamondpress.com/2017/04/11/the-dumbfounded-last-beat/

https://rosamondpress.com/2014/07/14/brook-kothlow-allan-fox-house/

https://rosamondpress.com/2015/10/21/disproving-stefan-eins/

Stefan Eins called me yesterday – and saved my bacon! He had gone to his facebook, which he rarely does, and glanced at my post on ‘The Last Beat’. He asked me what this was about. I told him a Synchronistic  Dimension had opened up. A producer had made a trailer to his movie – that is not in the can!

“He is soliciting for funding. He has used artistic images to entice investors. They look like the images you find on my blog! This is more than a coincidence. This has way more to do with art and poetry than this guy knows. It’s like he made a landing strip for my visions – for my life – and not necessarily Jim Morrion’s life.”

One wonders if this guy is a parasite cashing in on the UNENDING fame of Morrison. His devoted fans of the Morrison Religion want to be more than mere voyeurs. This was the play that Stacey Pierrot used, that sucked in my sixteen year old daughter. There already exist a “Last Beat” Gregory Corso. The promise to fly to Paris is La La Land.

http://www.imdb.com/video/wab/vi3098805017

I tell Stefan about Michael McClure who taught poetry at the California College of Arts and Crafts. My lover was in one of his classes she had me sit in. McClure was a real ‘Beat Poet’ and took Jim under his wing. He was his mentor, and is not mentioned by this producer. Not a good idea. I saw Michael read ‘The Beard’ at Mill’s College where Chris majored in theology.  My late friend, Michael Harkin went to CCAC and became good friends of McLure, and, Morrison. The Harkins family was my surrogate family, and were good friends of Chris Wandel, Stefan’s main squeeze. They are another REAL story.

Chris was my best friend’s lover. Kieth Purvis was Christine Rosamond’s lover. His brother, Brian, was my mothers lover. Christine was Bryan McLean’s lover. Bryan and Love was Jim’s inspiration. Chris was Peter Shapiro’ lover. Peter and his two bands played at the Acid Tests. They are Pioneers! Consider the Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol, and his portrait of my kindred, Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor.

Last week I talked with Chris and Peter on the phone. We reminisced about the cats who lived with us. Three of them were dropped off by Steve Kupkah, the co-founder of the Tower of Power. I was the artist in residence. I did my infamous painting of Rena Easton at Peter’s house. We were roommates. Rosamond saw a photo of this painting, and took up art. Overnight she was the greatest COMMERCIAL SUCCESS in the history of art. Serious artists – were threatened! I was one of them.

When I was seventeen I spent a lot of time at the Dwan Gallery in Westwood. I did some very experimental pieces that I hung at the New Balladeer in the Sawtelle where Bryan played his guitar. David Crosby was a mainstay of this Beat Coffee House that Marilyn and I founded two years earlier. There was nothing there. A art critic said;

“LA…..Omaha with a beach!”

http://www.artbabble.org/video/ngadc/los-angeles-new-york-dwan-gallery-0

The two dimensional canvas has always been a roadblock. I glued a canvas on plywood, did a surreal, representative landscape, then stretched a canvas raised on a frame, leaving about a half-inch of space. I then burned holes in the canvas which I heavily textured with a modeling paste. I built up a raised crater around the holes that were about two inches in diameter. Then, I glued nests of steel wool in the holes. Bryan had to talk me into having – my first show. I would sit next to my painting and watch people playing peek-a-boo. If they positioned their head just right, a light above allowed them to get a glimpse of what lay under the surface. The abrasive and ugly steel wool were like rabid guardians, not giving them what they are used to in two-dimensional art.

When I saw the movie ‘Eraserhead’ and the stage behind the radiator, I saw my piece come alive on the screen, in another art form. Lynch also understood the obstacle of two-dimensional cinema. He was not going to make it easy for the viewers – either! Fuck them! He destroyed many Movie Icons, such as Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, who filled the racks at Safeway with Fake News. I believe a new Burton Aborted Baby story came out every nine months. Was Richard terrified to have Liz Rosemond’s baby? I am sure Stefan did not see Eraserhead, and will be thrilled when I send him this blog.

As I watched ‘The New Viewers’ I created, a musician on stage was doing a very fine rendition of The Ballad of Little Sadie”.. Six months later, I am hitching to New York. This is 1964. I want to live in the Village. I am fleeing from my mother, Rosemary. Stefan and I share the same archetypal mother, which is key to him saving my bacon. Play both videos at same time. ‘Little Sadie’ morphed into ‘Hey Joe’ sung by Bryan. This song blew Jim Morrison’s mind, and Hendrix’s. Jim’s ‘This Is The End’ simulates an Acid Trip, where this Rock Icon is having sex with his mother after killing his father, which is Oedipus Rex. Sadie has an unwanted child in her belly, like Little Oamie. I just saw that the baby in Eraserhead looks like Stefan’s Horseshoe Crab that hung in the Museum of Modern Art.

So, how did Stefan “save my bacon”? HE GAVE ME CREDIT. He acknowledged he and I collaborated on a work of art – while three thousand miles apart. We did this faster than the speed of light. He cited articles about him, one, in the New York Times. The Museum of Modern Art spoke of him and his art. This is key, because no critic, or famous museum, had anything to say about my late sister, thus, I have been very limited in what I can write about her in my  autobiography, especially the really wicked and evil stuff, because, it would not be redeeming. real Art…………is redeeming!

What Stefan did yesterday, was acknowledge me as a fellow artist, that has created, or co-created a worthy work of art, that is connected to the New York Art Scene. This was my dream, so long ago! Thanks Stefan. I asked him if he heard of Alan Ginsberg and Gregory Corso. They were friends of MacLure. He had not.

Now that I am an artist again, on top of being a writer, poet, and newspaper man, let me put this image before you. Spike is the nickname the crew gave Lynch’s WORK OF ART. Is this Jim Morrison’s baby! Is it Liz and Richard Burton’s baby. Is it Chris and Stefan’s baby and so much more………….Perhaps!

The Getty family is in my family tree due to the marriage of Christopher Wilding, the son of my kindred, Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, to Aileen Getty. Garth Benton sued his friend, Gordon Getty, for painting over a mural he did in the Getty home, where Christine Rosamond Benton spent the night. Christine’s partner in the Crossroads gallery, Lawrence Chazen, was a financial advisor for the Getty family, and their partner in Plumpjack. That is Chazen at the Rosamond gallery, and Christine at the Getty home. Lynch might make a television of this cultured cluster, that was beyond dysfunctional. All of us took LSD. The Eraserhead Cult was interested in this aspect. Warhol came out with a movie in 1966 that was supposed to replicate a Acid Trip. Nancy and I saw it together.

https://rosamondpress.com/2013/11/25/the-taylor-getty-and-rosamond-children/

All the Rosamond sisters, and Christine Rosamond, died without knowing Liz was our kindred. The Getty Museums hold much of the world’s art. This ‘Threat To Make A Movie’ and a HBO Series, has been seriously derailed by my introduction of Liz, whose kindred, Carrie Fisher, worked on a screenplay about Rosamond. A producer bought a script. Oliver Stone’s people wanted Michael Harkins to contribute his memories of Jim. He told them they would not do his friend justice. “Go to hell!”

Is Spike………..a Getty?

What we are looking at is the pre-mature birth of our un-limited imagination that is no longer in a embryonic state. The horseshoe crab is one of the oldest living creatures. You can see them in Far Rockaway. Chris and Stefan have alluded to the idea we have visitors from other worlds. How this alien life got here, is key, because it would take many light years. However, what if our imaginations are shared on distant stars, almost simultaneously? What if we – let our imaginations – go? How fast can they travel? What if we knew the secret of this, but, the church put an end to it? Why would they do that? They are the Middlemen! They charge a tithe, a TRAVEL tax.

I heard Lynch speak at the University of Oregon. He praised Highway 99 in a Stefanish manner. The is ‘Found Art’ everywhere. David aspired to be an artist and went to the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Art. He did a painting that came alive, and got into MOVING pictures.

While Stefan was away tending to his sculptures in Austria (he roomed as the Habsburg palace) I conspired against him after my old friend convinced me he was seeing his Austrian sluts and whores – behind her back! Chris had told me she saw maps of lost cities in rocks. I suggested she get even by becoming an artist. I went looking for rocks to mail her. I wanted her to put them on a heavy piece of watercolor at a gallery. Stefan moved the rocks out of the box after she told him not to touch them. There was hell to pay! Both of them were never the same. In this light, one can not be sure Chris became an artist…………..or not!

I told Chris;

“The stories you tell me are True Bohemian Tales! Half the rich folk in New York City want to read this shit while in bed, eating Bon-Bons! You two are the last of the New York Bohemians! No one is going to believe a word of it – because its true! The idea that it could be true, is what makes the cultured world go round!”

Over a year ago I talked about going to visit Chris and Stefan in the Village where they have been raising Spike. Over two hundred NY officials have come to her studio apartment to adore Spike. Then, Stefan suggested he might come and visit me in Oregon. Days later, I was witness to three art happenings held on the concrete floor of a store that had been torn down. I went into a trance when I saw Stefan’s crab next to a pipe that had been beaten closed. It had once carried water to a part of the store. Then, one day, a creature came out of that pipe. The owner shut down his establishment, beat down the pipe that is like a embibilocal cord. And, that was the end of that, until an artist came along. This what the church did. They conceal the pounding-close of the pipe, with the ringing of church bells.

Of course it looks like a flattened penis. There are spermatozoon images in Stefan’s work. His mother raised him to be a Catholic Priest. Rosemary (Rosary) wanted me to be a Franciscan Monk. There is a Immaculate Conception Gone Wrong Story, here.

Then, the chalk artists came. On the third day, a sky deity – greater that ourselves – put on a show. The universe opened for me. What I thought were mere rain puddles, were masterpieces from another dimension. Stefan asked me to send him more photographs so he can include them in his ongoing show.

I had captured the same Cosmic Hipster who thought just about everything, is a real grove. What Stefan brings to the mix, is Real Credentials as an Artist, who may adopt Spike, or reject him. Lynch would approve, either way. Spike is a work of art and should be in MOMA.

I would like to make a movie about Eins as the Bela Lugosi of the NY Art Scene. I see a Ed Woodslike black and white.  I told Chris I would like to author a book about their time together. They liked my musical starring Belle Burch. But, I now see a play, a real drama.

I asked Stefan if anyone had ever called him a ‘Beat Artist’. I told him this work will morph into a book……………..AN ART BOOK! And, no one can stop me, now that I am an artist again! I get to do the fuck what I want to do.

I am going to make Alan Pierrot the most famous Amaterur Artist – of all time! I will not utter his daughter’s name – out of spite. You see, THEY, turned my mother against me the day after Christine died, but, that wasn’t hard to do! Rosemary was undermining my gifts – from the get. Vic said I was not his son, and in front of his bad-ass friends called me “Rosemary’s Baby” after the movie. THEY un-born me! Alan became redeemable when he took up art ten years later. I can not say he is a bad artist, or, his art is not very good. The smile on his face tells me he has seen the Cosmic Grover and Rover!

Spike was first seen is one of Bosch’s paintings. The meaning of Morrison’s song ‘The End’ is found in Bosch’s work. My Rosemondt kindred commissioned him.

“Let your imaginations – fly! For, this is the end, my friend!”

I will hold a contest.

1. Who is Spike’s father?
2. Is there any meaning in the movie ‘The Sandpiper, hidden, or, otherwise?
3. Find the source of ‘The End’ in Bosch’s work.

to be continued

Jon Presco

Copyright 2017

redeemable

able to be recovered or saved from faults or bad aspects.

http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/unexplainable-photo-snapped-at-jim-morrisons-grave-20091016

http://been-seen.com/travel-blog/movie-atlas/big-sur-and-the-sandpiper

8down voteaccepted

The answer to that question is; no one will ever know. David Lynch knew he was onto something ethereal, so he prohibited any promotional photos of the baby and forced his SE crew to sign a release saying they could never talk about it. Lynch, himself, has always been elusive at best. All anyone will ever have is speculation, until Lynch decides to spill the beans. I want to add that the idea that the baby was living tissue has 2 main roadblocks; decomposition and Rigor Mortis. It is highly unlikely the baby was actually living tissue, though it may have been modeled on such. I have seen mention that it somewhat resembles a sheep fetus, so that may have been the vision Lynch worked from. Lynch would have needed several such fetuses for multiple days of filming, which just doesn’t seem plausible.

Scenes from Harlem sidewalks: a nasty splotch of green paint, or a clenched-fist image of defiance; a blue blob, or a spot-on profile of President Bill Clinton. As Stefan Eins would ask, coincidence or not coincidence?

Small surprise that Mr. Eins would find order among random lines and spots. In the late 1970s, he found art among the chaos of the South Bronx as the founder of Fashion Moda, a legendary gallery that brought together downtown hipsters and uptown hip-hoppers. But all along he has pursued his own art, teasing meaning from otherwise-random lines, spots and cracks that most New Yorkers pass without noticing.

He notices. To him, these sidewalk tableaux make him ever more convinced that there is a higher intelligence behind it all. In one of his photographs, “From and to Another Dimension,” for instance, a crack in the sidewalk arches through one square, into another and ends in an orange paint splatter.

“I find situations that correlate to my verbal expressions, as if I had created them,” he said, with a tinge of an accent from his native Austria. “But I didn’t create them. But they are there. My theory is that I created them in a different realm of existence.”

Mr. Eins himself can span several realms of existence in a single conversation. Inside his bright, minimalist Harlem apartment near Marcus Garvey Park, he can go from quiet and halting to expressive and effusive, his lanky frame leaping out of a seat to pace about the room as he discusses his work.

http://www.oneunoeins.com/

http://www.oneunoeins.com/stefan-eins_whitney_2015.html

http://www.oneunoeins.com/stefan-eins_ps1-moma_2007.htm

http://www.francescospampinato.com/files/spampinatofashionmodawaxpoetics.pdf

https://www.artslant.com/global/artists/show/2441-stefan-eins?tab=PROFILE

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/27/arts/27urbanart.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_McClure

Laura Reynolds (Taylor) is a free-spirited, unwed single mother living with her young son Danny (Morgan Mason) in an isolated California beach house. She makes a modest living as an artist and home-schools her son out of concern that he will be compelled to follow stifling conventional social norms in a regular school. Danny has gotten into some trouble with the law through two minor incidents, which are in his mother’s eyes innocent expressions of his natural curiosity and conscience rather than delinquency. Now with a third incident a judge (Torin Thatcher) orders her to send the boy to an Episcopal boarding school where Dr. Edward Hewitt (Burton) is headmaster, and his wife Claire (Eva Marie Saint) teaches. Edward and Claire are happily married with two student sons, but their life has become routine and their youthful idealism has been tamed by the need to raise funds for the school and please wealthy benefactors.

http://www.nytimes.com/movie/review?res=9803E1D9133CE733A25755C1A9619C946491D6CF

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sandpiper

THAT shabby old Hollywood custom of pretending to a great piety while flirting around with material that is actually suggestive and cheap has seldom been more adroitly practiced than in Martin Ransohoff’s “The Sandpiper,” which opened at the Music Hall yesterday.

Built up to give the impression that it is taking a disapproving view of an adulterous affair between a free-thinking woman and an Episcopal clergyman, it is really a slick and sympathetic sanction of the practice of free love—or, at least, of an illicit union that is supposedly justified by naturalness. And because it has Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in the leading roles, the indelicacy of its implications is just that much more intrusive and cheap.

Actually, the most distasteful aspect of this picture, which was made from a script by Dalton Trumbo and Michael Wilson, based on a story by Mr. Ransohoff, is that it uses the formidable Miss Taylor to rationalize values and views that are immature, specious, meretricious and often ridiculous.

When she, as the artist-mother of a 9-year-old illegitimate son, lectures the clergyman-headmaster of a California private school on why atheism is desirable and why she doesn’t wish to put her son in his charge, he is made to concede that maybe he is “pompous” in politely disputing her. And when she presents the example of a sandpiper with a broken wing to drive home her favorite argument that every creature should be permitted to “fly free,” he is forced to swallow this romantic twaddle, just as the audience is supposed to do.

Likewise, when he abandons caution and succumbs to her arguments and charms, it is he who is made to appear awkward because he has a sense of guilt. And finally, when he walks away from her—and likewise from his wife and his job—it is he who is made to seem degraded in the face of her sustained righteousness.

In short, all the best of it is given to the woman, whom Miss Taylor plays with the lofty and elegant assurance of a chicly dressed, camera-pampered star. Her arty and shallow pretensions of a bold, humanistic philosophy are never intelligently challenged. And Mr. Burton is compelled to play the clergyman in an annoyingly solemn, apologetic way.

However, there are a lot of handsome and diverting incidentals in this film—a lot of scenic and environmental details to give it a sophisticated air and look. Much of it was shot on location in the coastal area of California’s Big Sur, with the rugged and beautiful seacoast to give the color cameras much grandeur on which to dwell. And Vincente Minelli, as director, has captured the style and charm of an artist’s beach house and the clatter and splash of an artist’s friends.

Charles Bronson and James Edwards represent the more forthright of these, and Eva Marie Saint is lucid and sincere as the clergyman’s wife. Robert Webber as an oily school patron, Torin Thatcher as a judge and Morgan Mason as the overly precocious son of the heroine are up to what they have to do.

A viewer who is not careful may be deceived by the tricky blend of piety and physical allurements that Miss Taylor presents. But don’t let it fool you. It’s the same old Hollywood stuff.

Carmel Cypress National Park