A Painting A Day: Day 22, July 25 2012

 "Cafe Roma in Little Italy"
5.5" x 5.5" watercolor on paper

When a gallery assistant job falls through, I wake out of my stupor and hit the pavements running: gotta find a job and fast! Taking Irene's advice, I gravitate towards Little Italy. Several years ago, I worked at DiPalo's delicatessen. We served Italian meats, cheeses, dried goods, olive oil, fresh bread and a number of prepared foods made fresh in the back kitchen. Are you surprised that I packed on a few pounds, working around such luscious selections of pecorino, cheeses con tartufi, dried salami (my favorite) and prosciutto di Parma e prosciutto di San Daniele? Why not return to DiPalo's? Well, I'd like to try something new.

This day is a hot one. The kind that leaves six-inch circumference wet circles under your arm. You wonder how anyone could sit next to you on the subway. Walking through Little Italy, I ponder where to give out my application. A well-dressed gent at posh "Public" took my resume. He looks more like a secretary than a host. Continuing down Mulberry, I am stopped by a young man whispering "Godfather, Sopranos, Goodfellas," like he is selling fake watches or porn. "Are you looking for lunch?" he asks. He is gathering people for the restaurant. Apparently they filmed many of the classic Italian mobster movies here. I don't recognize it, though. "I'm looking for a job!" I snap, smiling. We talk. He is new here, too. Bruno, from Barcelona Spain. He wishes me good luck.

Continuing on, I enter Benito, where Matthew and Pop Pat had dinner and a nice bottle of wine. Sorry, no work until the feast of San Gennaro in September. Better try back at the end of August. An old man at a dark table plays with a package of napkins. "Did the young lady say she's looking for a job?" he mumbles in a gruff tone that recalls Marlon Brando's Don Corleone. "Yes," I reply. "What kind of job are you looking for?" I pause, wondering if he's recruiting another hit-man, but decide to give in. "Any kind." "Go outside, around the corner. See the sign for Cafe Roma and ask for..." It turns out he's the owner, and of course I know Cafe Roma. A few girls are leaving for school in August. He asks if I'm interested. 

We exchange information and he says he will call Thursday. I go outside to tell Bruno the good news: "We could be neighbors!" Then I pop in Cafe Roma to see this guy. To my shock, the old man is there. How did he get from the restaurant to the cafe? I was standing right there on the street, between the two buildings. Is there a secret door? "I walked," he replies.


"Help from the Angels"
5.5" x 5.5" watercolor on paper

This afternoon I spend lounging at the Hudson River Parkway, secretly figure drawing from the buff gay men on the green by the water. In the evening, my friend Anthony hosts a Violet Flame Gathering at the Meta Center. This is my first live attendance at one of Anthony's workshops (you can see more on his website). The Violet Flame is a tool used to transmute karma. You can call upon this etheric flame to clear away any stuff you want to get rid of in this lifetime and clear your way for ascension (which I interpret as being one with yourself). During the workshop, Anthony plays one of my favorite songs about angels. The song brings to mind my late grandmother, Katherine Kilgore, who was fond of angels. The walls in my mother's house are covered with tapestries of angels and mythic creatures. This watercolor is an imagined scenario of me calling upon the angels to help me while I'm sleeping. Notice the figures look alike, except the one on the bed who's missing her wings.
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