Mary Boone

Screw 10

So I finally got to speak to Mary on the phone.

That same day, I FedEx'd her the three cards I had used to launch the website, which featured the three paintings that Ron had mistakenly discarded. I called the tracking number, and someone at the gallery had signed for them, so I assume she got them.

So at least, by now, I could reasonably assume that she knows about the website.

In our phone conversation, I asked her if I could say hello the next time I’m in her gallery.

She said of course. I also asked her if she would look at the series I’m working on once I complete them. She told me to call her at that time.

So I have the upcoming meeting, our first face-to-face. That’s next. How to take full advantage of this meeting?

The initial three cards have representational paintings (great representational paintings) on them. Still, you have to realize, when addressing anyone, what they bring into the meeting is just as important as what I am offering, as who they are will determine how they view me and my project.

So I figure, first off, she’s a dealer. Art. She’s thinking I’m representational. I am, but I am infinitely more than that. I can explain, I can sell it to her, no problem - but I need to create more space. I don’t want her to see me as being one-dimensional: "representational painter".

So I thought to make three more cards that are completely different. Edgy. Give her here, and way the hell over there, to think about, so that she’s not sure what to think. I don’t want to be pegged. I want to create an atmosphere of wonder.

Sex is still kind of edgy, and everyone seems to be interested in it. So I’m thinking sex.

I think sex, and I’m thinking my penis. I mean, it’s in my pants, buzzing right along any time I give it a thought.

So I thought to make three new cards with close-up black and whites of my hands and genitals, with all my pubic hair shaved off. I figure if I manipulate my genitals, minus hair, extremely close-up, the viewer will know that those are fingers, "but is the rest of that what I think it is?" I’m thinking to go abstract on the genitals end.

So I contacted the guy who shoots my art. He has all the camera lenses and lighting equipment. I tell him what I want to do.

It’s kind of a fun conversation: "Yo. I want you to take extremely close-up photos of my hands manipulating my shaved dick and balls. I’ll bring a bottle of wine and we will have an unusual evening together."

I didn’t have any money to pay for it, especially as this is a professional and he uses those big cameras and stuff. I told him that I only wanted use of the three images for the postcards, and that he could have all the negatives and prints. I told him that, if I became famous, he could do a "Tim Folzenlogen’s Dick" show at some gallery. Either that or, he could give me everything, and I’ll pay for whatever the job is worth, once I can afford it, whenever that might be.

He thought about it for a week and decided to pass.

So I was going to forget about it. That’s how inspirations are with me. I get them all the time, and act on all of them. Sometimes they work out, sometimes they don’t (or, closer to the truth, reveal their treasure further along the road).

So I was going to forget about it.

Then I went to this Group Show opening where this one woman had taken a photo of herself in her bathtub. When they introduced her and her piece, she was very adamant to inform everyone present that the photo was of her body, in her bathtub.

You go girl, thought I.

So afterwards, I got to thinking about her, and I thought that perhaps she was the one to take my photos. So I got in touch with her through a mutual friend. When he gave me her number, he said she said I could call her, but that I should be direct.

(If you know me, that’s kind of funny, as I’m probably the most direct person on the planet.)

So I called her.

Direct or no, I don’t want to tell this woman, who I don’t really know, that I want her to do close-ups of my shaved genitals, in our first phone conversation. I tell her I want her to check out my website first, read this essay and that, so she knows where I’m coming from.

She’s all like: "What’s the big deal?" (and goes on to tell me about all her own wild art projects - and what could be so weird that I couldn’t explain myself right here and now?)

So I told her.

She seemed to roll with it.

She even told me that we are going to be great friends.

One thing though: She told me that all her work is autobiographical. It always has her in it.

I later emailed her that if this is the case, she could photograph her own hands on my genitals (and immediately started fantasizing about a very interesting afternoon indeed).

Anyway, she said she wanted to read some of my stuff first, that she had a hard time going to websites due to her old computer, and asked me to email her the essays I wanted her to read.

I emailed 10 or 12 or something. It was hard to decide which ones, as all the individual essays seem to add a critical aspect of my thought.

She emailed back that I should not email her any more as I was overloading her server or something.

I said ok.

Waited a week.

Wrote and asked what’s up?

Got no reply.

I have no idea what this means, but didn’t feel it was my place to push it any further.

In the meantime, I checked with the postcard place and found out it would cost me twice as much as my memory of what the first three had cost.

I just didn’t have the money.

So I was going to forget about it again.

Then I thought cards. Make my own cards. My wife could shoot the photos with my own camera (no close-up lens) but I could then crop the images down to small abstractions. That way I could do more than 3. I thought to do 12, each with a sound-bite of my thought on the inside of the card.

This idea took root and quickly grew as I thought about it.

Misako said she’d do it, but when I asked her one day if today was the day, she said no. She told me to wait until a day she had the energy and felt like it. Feeling like doing something is important if you want good results.

So the day came. Took about an hour or so. I think it was kind of fun for the both of us.

I took the film to B&H, which is run by Orthodox Jews, because it’s a very cool and professional place for all things having to do with photography. I like those Jewish guys. It’s fun to rub up against their world whenever I can.

On the way to pick up the film once it was developed, I met Howard on the subway. Hello Howard. Complete stranger, but his act was so cool, I had to find out what the story was, so I asked him. Retired dancer. Author. Does computer stuff to make a living. He wears very fashionable attire. We spoke of Arthur Mitchell.

Went and picked up the prints; went home.

Now remember. I had every intention of cutting these things up, hoping I could find 12 good fractions out of the 36 images. (I got 4 prints of each.)

The photos floored me. These are extremely beautiful things. All 36 of them. Not only is there not a bad photo in the bunch, there isn’t a single one that is not great. I couldn’t cut these up, any more than I could cut up my paintings.

Of course, they are very erotic photos, but I don’t see them as being "pornographic" in the negative sense of the word. My wife, (though she has lived with me for 20 years and I challenge her concepts daily) still, at her core, she is a 63 year old Japanese lady. She sees my penis much like she does her pots and pans. It’s an object. Just another part of her husband. (You’d have to know her.)

There’s a real objective purity in these photos, and I think it has a lot to do with who took them.

So I put together four sets of 36 numbered cards, photo on the outside, a sentence or two on the inside.

The feelings I wanted to convey with the photos are: sincerity, rock bottom honesty, a sense of seriousness, and I dare say a purity that most never associate with this subject matter.

Tim Folzenlogen
March 10, 2002