U2s “The Edge”, Caviar and the Hands I Shake

“The Edge” Nam June Paik, Yoko Ono…

Charles Lamb (Elia) wrote; (“Every man hath two birth-days: two days, at least, in every year, which set him upon revolving the lapse of time, as it affects his mortal duration.”

I was once a kid for sixty years. I have been Dickens’ Tiny Tim and dozens of other bits of fairytale children for way too many years. One New Year’s Eve night I stood in the apartment foyer of a friend’s New York apartment. I am not a party guy. I am not a party dance guy. I figured a few steps from the front door might make for a quick exit if need be.

I was chatting with a few faces I knew from my building. In walked this guy. My eyes widened like a grizzly spotting a drift of ten thousand Chinook salmon heading up stream. It was like a billion geodes exploding in one hundred square feet. U2’s “The Edge” peeked in. He moved across from me and my friends. He too was positioning himself for the inevitable “Casper” exit.

My favorite guitarist is Jimmy Page or Hendrix on most days. It was always more than about music. Their sounds transform not what I hear, but the way I see. I remember listening to “The Edge” on “The Joshua Tree” soundtrack. I was standing on a hilltop in a world unbeknownst to me. I listened to his chords. I wanted to let it play like a scratch on vinyl. So when he walked into this New Year’s Eve party, surrealism engulfed the moment.

Festivities were in the air. People are chatty on New Years’ Eve as if you have shared a lifetime of friendships. My mind was brimming with all kinds of stuff I wanted to “chat” about. Most people want to embrace the past 364 days and look forward to the next. SuddenIy in one part of my occipital lobe I thought The Edge was going to lean in for a kiss. I said “Nope, nope that can’t be!” I began to hear Dooley Wilson (from Casablanca) perform “…A kiss is just a kiss…”.

I could feel my mind hallucinating. Zero mescalin in my blood stream. I was turning many shades of green, and then Casper white. I saw what seemed like a ticker tape of Aldous Huxley’s “Doors of Perception” text race across my eyes. Maybe it was a rite of passage for everybody to kiss. I placed my cocktail down. Faces moved in and out. I grabbed and shook The Edges’ hand. I stepped into the hallway. The party continued to blast. I still had a few questions for my new U2 friend. When I arrived at my apartment, I began to vomit. I was so relieved that “Dooley” was wrong. The caviar and an excessive evening almost caused me to think the absurd. I was so happy I was hallucinating.

Later that night I heard Jimmy, Jimi and The Edge play until the new year’s early dawn.

I was invited to an evening at the National Arts Club in Gramercy Park. I was a guest of the artist Will Barnett. I was there for an evening to celebrate Yoko Ono, John Cage, Nam June Paik, Gordon Parks

and more.

Yoko began the evening by talking about being with John Cage and Nam June Paik in Germany.

Her first utterances were that Paik was devastatingly gorgeous; The most handsome man I have ever seen. That night I made introductions with Nam June Paik and Gordon Parks. I had already photographed John Cage with Merce Cunningham. I never did get the opportunity to photograph Yoko.

A few weeks later I walked into the studio of an artist who first described the future of telecommunications as the “Electronic Super Highway”. Nam June Paik was easily the most generous artist I have met. I am sure that once he had his stroke, that he understood that he needed to be fearless in order to engage the infinite possibilities that his mind and art might contribute to the art world’s dialogue. You combine that with his warmth and genuine need to share, his world, gave me pause and a bit of faint.

He might have been a prince of the Fluxus art world. He was the most cutting edge artist I had met.

Paik and his wife the artist Shigeto Kubota could not share enough of their cultural explorations.

He was no longer the most devastatingly handsome man. His love to engage the moment broke my heart many times. His devotion to his creative life soared universes beyond the Yoko Ono appreciation.

The best part is that the world knew his devotion to creative processes were his soul. One of the surprisingly touching moments for me was when his wife( and collaborative partner) Shigeto walked me out after our first session: “You make my husband very happy today. Would you like to see more of his work? Shigeto grabbed my hand. I sat in my heart as I realized that two people who had issues with translation and the simplest exercises of communication embraced my moment.

When I returned for a “next” session I decided that I wanted my camera to meet Nam June Paik’s visual desires head on. As they say in the wilderness; “I was armed for bear”. I will never know if I was successful as a photographer. I will know that I choreographed every shutter speed. I monitored every tone of light. I measured every inflection. I was a surgeon in an artist’s heart.

What transpired at the end of the afternoon was that I did not see a supernova, but I felt the power of one when Shigeto walked me over to Nam June Paik and placed my hand on his. His hand that sat on his wheel chairs’ arm. Nam June Paik wanted to say thank you. Three hands. They were pressed together. My god I am a pretty big guy. I can’t remember ever trembling like that before or after.