Alan Ilagan

The calendar says it is already September – the month that summer officially ends – and I don’t yet want to believe it. It’s not that I don’t embrace the change, or even that I’m not yet ready for it – I simply don’t want this particular summer to end. It’s been one of my most favorite summers, for so many reasons. Andy and I have made a lifetime of cherished memories in these few short months.

As for the coming Fall, that chapter is currently being written, with trips to Ogunquit to close the season, NYC for the ballet, and Cape Cod for a wedding. But before that there are a couple of weeks of summer left. Forgive me if I drag my feet a little…

A good friend of mine, Jim Masters, will be presenting his first solo show at the Romaine Brooks Gallery this Friday, September 3, from 5 to 9 PM. This is also the 4th anniversary of 1st Friday Albany, so it is a doubly special occasion. Toss in the fact that musician Vinny d’Andrea (pictured below) will be performing at the gallery from 7 to 9 PM and you have an artistic triumvirate that is sure to result in an impressive evening of art, music, and some wonderful people.

Here is the story I had the pleasure of writing about Jim for Community:

During the few short years he’s been on the Albany gay scene, Jim Masters has quickly become an institution unto himself. Grandfatherly in deportment, kind and gentle in communication, and always ready with a smile or laugh, Jim is someone you simply enjoy being around (a lost art for so many today). He has devoted many hours to the Capital District Gay & Lesbian Community Center, and in September he will premiere his first solo exhibition, “Rejoicing in Beauty Everywhere” at the Romaine Brooks Gallery.

I first met him when I started helping out at the Gallery, when he made it up and down the three flights of stairs carrying trays of cookies, bags of garbage, and any number of other items that had to be transported. More than the extra hand, it was his conversation and kindly whispers about the people I had yet to meet that won my heart. He never said a cruel word about anyone, though it was clear if something didn’t quite agree with him. He had a wealth of knowledge about the world, from years of traveling and teaching, and was ever-ready with an interesting tale or recounting of his journeys.

He is a born story-teller, as evidenced by the explanations that accompany his work. This time around, however, he’s doing much of the tale-telling through his artwork.

“My understanding is that human beings were doing art long before they were writing, and I believe they were probably singing before they were speaking, too,” Masters says. “Their art expressed their feelings about the world and the mysteries of the world. That’s what my photographic work is all about, too.”

From his early life in Kansas City, Missouri, to the majority of his adult life in Billings, Montana, he has amassed considerable wisdom and knowledge over almost 82 years of living, yet maintains a childlike wonder at the world. As he puts it, “I received no pressure from my parents to decide what I wanted to be or do when I grew up. I guess that’s why even today when I’m almost 82 years old, I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”

            Within those eight decades, Masters sought out art, and ended up living in a house full of artists. To this day he is surrounded by the artwork of his family.

“I was born in Kansas City, Missouri in 1928. Kansas City was my home except for a stint in the USAF from 1950 to 1954, when I was in San Antonio, Texas, Syracuse, New York, and Anchorage, Alaska. In 1970 my wife, children, and I moved to Billings, Montana. That was the end of my life in Kansas City.  My Dad was very good at cartooning, but in those days of the Great Depression he was so busy making a living that he never had the time or inclination to teach me to draw. When I was five years old the William Rockhill Nelson Gallery of Art (now called the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art) was opened not far from where I lived in Kansas City, Missouri. From the beginning it has always been a superb, world-class place to see art, and I visited it many, many times before 1970, when I moved to Montana. On Saturday mornings the Nelson Art Gallery had classes for children in various artistic and crafts activities. I still have a little Navaho-type rug that I wove in one of those classes. During the 55 years of my marriage I lived with artists—my wife and my three children. The walls in my house are decorated with their art work.”

It was his wife who may have taught Masters the most about art, and it was she who planted the seeds that resulted in his current show. “The art classes in school did not do much for me as far as helping me do any art that I felt very happy with,” he admits. “The main way I learned to do photography was working with my wife photographing here and there over the years.”

There is an ease and peace to his life, and a matter-of-fact analysis to his work. A collection spanning so many years is no mean feat, and Masters spent an exorbitant amount of time getting this one just the way he wants it. Fellow artists supported and offered advice along the way, encouraging him and helping him sort through what worked and what didn’t.

“The artist whom I’ve come to know best in recent years is Kevin Bruce. I’ve watched him paint and have seen the intensity of the creative process in his face and hands as he works. And I’ve talked with him about his own work and the work of many other artists. He’s a walking encyclopedia of art.”

            That kind of openness and curiosity about others is the main part of Jim’s appeal. He will talk to anyone, and gets people to open up because he is so interested in the world around him. His views on society are refreshingly straight-forward and to-the-point. There is never any edge of cynicism and certainly no room for sarcasm; in the world of Masters that makes no sense. If there’s one thing for which I am most grateful to him, it may be that bit of inspiration. Whenever I’m with him, I get the feeling that he has somehow found the key to true happiness and contentment, and whereas I search for the where and how, he simply goes about his life not even seeming to worry about such matters. That’s the simplicity, and the grandness, of Jim Masters. Unlike some people who can’t move on, he doesn’t look at the past with any sense of regret or bitterness. He celebrates it for what it was, and looks ahead with promise at what is to come.

Jim Masters will be presenting his exhibition, “Rejoicing in Beauty Everywhere”, at the Romaine Brooks Gallery on Friday, September 3 2, 2010 from 5 to 9 PM as part of Albany’s 1^st Friday Events. The Romaine Brooks Gallery is located on the third floor of the Capital District Gay & Lesbian Community Center at 332 Hudson Avenue, Albany, NY 12210.

Our last morning on this trip dawned as perfectly as the previous days – bright and sunny and comfortably breezy. While Andy slept in, I walked to the Public Garden for one last quick look before departing.

In front of the Garden was this fittingly-drawn-upon ice cream truck, referencing, I believe, the original Make Way for Ducklings, and sitting right next to the entrance depicted. A number of the book’s descendants were frollicking happily in the morning sun, along with the pair of swans.

Since getting married, as well as in the year leading up to it, I’ve been unconsciously (until now) visiting the Public Garden at some point during every trip. I’ve seen it through all four seasons, finding jewels and favorite spots as the sun and weather changes and shifts.

This is my favorite tree in the park – a dawn redwood – not exactly native to the ara, but no less beautiful for it (and possibly quite a bit more-so). It retains this fresh, bright green color even as the end of summer descends.

I am most enamored of its gnarled base of outreaching roots, such strength and durable stability providing support for its sky-reaching fronds.

Nearby, in the pond, the swans swam, watched by the ducks on shore.

I could spend hours just watching these exquisite birds.

A regal bearing, an orange beak, and a coat of milky-white plumage – they rule over their little pond with grace and ease, and though the world seems less and less stable, with danger around every corner, they don’t seem to mind.

It is just another Summer of the Swans.

Alas, it was time to depart our beautiful, beloved Boston – if only until the Fall, a few short weeks away. Braddock Park holds some of its prettiest moments then, and I will return when the nights are cool and the leaves just begin to drop.

Until then, let us have roses and sun and a few more days of summer.

After our meal at Rocca, we took a leisurely walk back to the condo, and in the twilight the closed shops offered their own magical enchantment.

Window-shopping is usually better than the real thing, affording the visceral thrill without the monetary set-back. In the light of night, it becomes a surreal experience.

Here the shops of the South End sell their wares silently, somewhat secretly, to the denizens who walk the night.

It always looks prettier looking in than looking out. I don’t know why that is.

Next: Departing the Park

Yet another establishment I’ve passed a million times but never tried is Aquitaine in the South End. En route to Rocca for dinner, we took time for a cocktail.

Any place that uses a microplaner to garner its zest is fine by me.

Here it was in service of the St. Cloud – a delightfully simple, and deceptively potent, concoction of vodka, grapefruit and rosemary essence, along with the aforementioned lime zest. The gentleman next to us was having the same, and recommending it strongly. After two of them, he was chatty, and recounting the film history of Guy Madison – the most beautiful man in the world at one point, according to him.

Andy was slightly more enthralled than me, but the gentleman was nice, and full of historical details regarding film and Emily Dickinson.

To be honest, I was more interested in the bathroom, and as soon as politely possible I excused myself to check it out. I was not disappointed. The walls were covered in wine labels (I like that) and it made strategic use of its mirrors, unconventionally angled to add the illusion of space – a rare instance when it really worked. Best of all, the hand soap: almond. Mmmmm… perfection.

We walked along the charming side streets to Rocca, where we sat down at the bar and ordered a Persephone. (I should have ordered it straight up, but the bartenders didn’t seem to be amenable to changes, so I didn’t bother.)

We moved to a couch by the window, and about ten minutes past our reservation time (tsk, tsk) we were seated. But hey, as long as there’s a decent cocktail in my hand I’m happy. (Oh, the only reason I mention the tardiness is because once we were seated I noticed that there were only about two other tables seated in the entire restaurant, so there was no overt reason for the delay.)

I’m easily appeased, however, as seen in this soon-to-be-devoured bunch of
Fries with Eyes. I had thought they were simply french fries speckled with black pepper, but it turns out the eyes were literal. Upon asking what they were, we were told they were goldenfish from Chinatown, fried up and served with some basil leaves. I loved them. In fact, I left wishing all my fries had eyes.

Andy had his usual cranberry with club, while I switched to water. After the St. Cloud and the Persephone, I wanted to be able to partially recollect the meal.

And that was a good decision, because this lobster gnochetti was to-die-for. Check out the tiny edible flower blossoms on it! Glorious and delicious.

It was another grand meal, and our first time in SoWa, so it looks like we’ll be returning to the area soon. (I have been shamefully remiss on checking out the SoWa Sunday market, but it will be rectified on my next trip in the Fall.)

Next: A Surreal Walk Home