marginal scribble

Today, with full intention, I choose to think about my time at the art suppliers on Hempstead Turnpike East Meadow New York; just off the Meadowbrook Parkway 

I choose to on purpose— no, not because I became nostalgic about it 

No …. it is more that I want to look at it with fond objectivity but also cruel eyes 

Cruel? ….yes

     because I fear to admit this but I guess it always persists that I walk as an outsider yet again

   like the comic book hulk —I just meander through cultures and observe in search 

     Remember that book “Are you my mommy?” 

maybe it is like that exactly —like a scientist I wish to observe some place I’ve been from the vast distance of time and other experiences in which to compare things to 

My first self posed question is ….What did I like about that art store—or was it more working there?

That art store was like Mecca to Long Island artists. 

It was like a super store just for artists. 

For scale? Now it is an actual supermarket. The building, I mean.

When I was there? When I was its worshipper? It was the second incarnation of their store. 

Their first shop on Ling Island was also in Hempstead Turnpike East Meadow. Or was that Levittown? The borders there overlap and then there is Bethpage and Wantagh 

But no, this was paradise to any true artist. 

I loved the original shop before the one I ended up working at. That one was such total grunge. It was awesome. Buckets— literal buckets— of things like pastels and charcoal ….drool….  You go firm isles like a museum and it could be the jewelry bead section with unbelievable variations of colors and textures could capture you for hours …. or the art paint brush isle with soft brushes that make your lips tingle when, with closed eyes, your rub it upon them; I know 

the sound of your boot upon the hollow floor as you go further into the recesses of the inner domain and step down into the dungeon below 

All clearance of …. more drool …. things people passed up at original prices 

and here I nearly always would faint ….. 

I loved that place …. it was sanity. It was calm. It was the beach after a storm. It was …. me

Back in those gritty days mom was still alive and I’d tell her about what I’d bought as she knew the famous original on Canal Street in Manhattan where even Stieglitz shopped 

Today, by choice, I choose to recall …. 

on this autumn day that is frozen in a polar winter storm in the mountains ….

If I went by expressway, I’d take the exit off the Meadowbrook Parkway passed the architecturally cool shaped Snapple Tea Corporation Headquarters building; a fun way to approach my job from further south the island at sunset, about 6:30 pm when the sunset turns such a lovely orange pink and the way it hits the cubes on the Snapple building is worth the moment to look

That began my work shift day; dinner at home sorted; child got from school, sorted at home, set to work when other parent arrives at 5:45

drive the Southern State to begin— but go against traffic —the New York City commuters returning to their suburban Long Island homes —as I was leaving Cedarhurst, by the City, to work in Long Island ….at dark

The shift officially started at 6:45 pm

      My then “boss” ….a twenty year old Italian American boy graduate from Pratt

I confess looking back, I loved that place— and? I knew it too— I knew it then ….and so did everyone who worked there 

   It was the worst of times in my life —but the best of times too

Worst as — I’d just lost my mother 

                    I’d just lost my custody battle 

                    I was sleeping on the floor in the living room of my ex husband who’d win custody and I had to pay half the rent —and? I had to pay Child Support 

But —the second incarnation of that Art Shop on Hempstead Turnpike that shall have to remain nameless because of touchy exposure; I loved it fondly though and I knew the family connection despite the shocking scandle there — doesn’t it just go with the whole wild life Art thing anyway? Scandal? Embezzlement ….? that just gives them more validation as artists in this oligarch world anyway — no, I’m joking but just slightly 

I’d arrive at the art store — the size of what had once actually been an airplane hanger!— to give one a sense of its hugeness! And it had every related imaginable type of art craft that could exist …. Isles and isles devoted just to art crafting 

That I pick today why? Why pause in this glass globed snow globe day to think on there —an Art Topia …. Now a supermarket ….

It was the chance to …. be among other many other artists who also were struggling ….to eat and survive …. though different from myself ….we celebrated this and —it helped get through the day because there was actual visible beauty we shared and in the —moment—created 

    so I bonded with …. my most valuable counterparts whom for such a utopian moment of bliss gave me a great …. moment to —whilst working until 3AM— pause and know ….i was not alone in the universe 

And I’d leave by 3:30 AM — return to a sleeping apartment at home in Cedarhurst and settle on the living floor; relax for a few hours before getting Persephone breakfast, then ready for school ….

I guess how I managed to not fall into depressive misery was that Mecca ….itself …. Art…. became my strength…. my faith ….and all my recreation