It's hard to go back there... REALLY hard... somewhere I'd never want to be again... but here goes...
I'm in my Sophmore year at the Rhode Island School of Design. It's 2 am. I'm Standing next to a 1906 dentist chair, wearing only my underwear in a bay window overlooking Brown University and there is a huge crowd below pointing at me and shouting... Lights are flashing... I'm a star!
98-100 Waterman St.
No... wait... that's not it at all. My friend is screaming from the room next door, "FIRE!" "FIRE!" My door is bending from firemen trying to break it down. It's a huge old house and a really solid oak door. I'm doing everything you're not supposed to do, I'm not thinking clearly. I'd inhaled a lot of toxic smoke. But...
knowing me and how I think... I knew I could always jump from the window. I'd done it before. After I get dressed I look for something to take with me, something to save. I grab something and begin to realize the magnitude of the moment.
With an extra coat in my hand I open the door for the firemen and they lead me out, one in front and one in back of me. Half of the building is in flames... my half. It's an inferno. As we hurry down the stairs flames are bursting out of my friend John's apartment. Is he alive?
We wait and between bursts - run by. I can see through his apartment to the outside. Part of the building is already gone.
Outside I find my housemates Chris, Liza and John. We cling to each other in tears. John doesn't have a coat - it's winter and he's barely dressed - I give him the one I have.
It was snowing heavily as we walked to friends around 4 am. By 7 am there was a foot of fresh snow. We were up and back at our house to see if we could salvage anything... shoes...?
It looked like the Ice House from Dr. Zhivago.
We asked R.I.S.D. for help, we were homeless. Our parents all lived in different states and one house mate's parents were out of the country. We didn't have credit cards, cash or any I.D.
R.I.S.D. did NOTHING!
We all got in-completes on our Winter Session projects.
Thank You! Fire Dept. of Providence, R.I. 1983
Those guys ran into a building that was totally on fire - all three floors. Real Heroes!
I once had a little furry studio mate - my sweet heart... my Valentine.
He liked to go up high. Always finding new places to go up.
Will you be my Valentine?
I'm talking to an art director about a job.
I know the cat is looking for up but it's not my concern.
In one leap he could jump from the floor to the top of the refridgerator. He liked to perch on the top of doors...
...discovering his wild instincts.
I forgot to mention his breeding. A Bengal. The name Bengal cat was derived from the taxonomic name of the Asian Leopard Cat (P. b. bengalensis), and not from the more distantly related Bengal tiger.... Oh really?
Mid sentence my conversation turned into a primal scream. A twelve pound Bengal was tearing deep into my mid back - claws raking down with all his weight dug in. SO painful... ...I was bloody.
I couldn't believe the art director was still on the phone when I picked it up.
I tried to explain what happened but they didn't want to know - didn't give me a chance. What did they think?
One evening I decided to go for a walk in the moonlight. There wasn't a moon so I reached into my coat pocket hoping to find a flashlight. Instead my hand found something familiar... A crayon.
Not just any crayon, but a crayon who claims to be "The" Purple crayon from a well know children's book.
The following is from our conversation.
-D.G.
David Goldin: You're really the crayon from the picture book? That was my favorite story.
Purple Crayon: "Yes, I worked with a kid named Harold a long, long time ago... ... 1955-63 ... that's around Fifty years ago. Harold needed a purple crayon and I fit the suit. Plus we got along famously. He had a bunch of crayons to choose from and he picked me. I'd like to think he picked me based on my artistic merits but probably it was just my good looks, distinguished chin and charming personality. Basically I was a vehicle for Harold's imagination. I wish I could have added a little more of my own perspective to the picture but... too many chefs... y'know."
Purple Crayon: "After teaming up with Harold I became a bit of a celebrity, in the crayon community at least.
While most people were off at school or work... living daily lives... I'd be with my friends partying 24/7 without a care in the world.
I was living the life...."
Purple Crayon: "... One day I woke up feeling Blue. Nothing significant was coming out of my efforts, just mindless scribbles and wasted wax.
I needed to find more meaning in life. It's been decades since working in publishing and now there are so many other shades of Purple to compete with - life just keeps getting more complicated. Amethyst, Eggplant, Indigo, Lavender, Lilac, Magenta, Mauve, Mulberry, Orchid, Plum, Pomegranate, Puce, Thistle, Violet... I could go on... I've got nothing wrong with colors mind you - some of my best friends are colors.
Purple Crayon: I decided to improve myself outside and in. A strict diet of nothingness, which is easy for crayons.
Deep soul searching... my inner-self ...stable.., calming aspects of blue combined with mystical and spiritual qualities of Purple, Warm Violet satisfying my need for reassurance in this complex world, while adding a hint of mystery and excitement... That is SO me.
Purple Crayon: " I started a Yoga routine... ...it wasn't easy.
PLEASE DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME! Crayons break easily.
Now when I get on a yoga matt I can twist myself into a pretzel."
David Goldin: What would you say your favorite thing to do is, besides draw?
Purple Crayon: "If I had to pick one thing... ... after all my years, travels, experiences,...
ups and downs,... I'd have to say,..."
...Hmmmmm....
Purple Crayon: "... going for walks on moonlit nights with friends."
35,000 ft in the air, I run out of the cockpit, uphill through first class,
the plane is beginning to dive. I'm 10 years old on my way from New York to stay with my Uncle,
a Nuclear Physicist working in Los Alamos, New Mexico.
"Stay out of trouble!" I'm told for the hundredth time as I check in. I'm flying alone.
The previous school year I spent every day in detention.
" Welcome aboard young man." It looks like it's going to be a good flight.
Ten is an awesome age to be. You are who you're going to be in life... ...before hormones start raging.
The flight starts out good, people are nice to me, John Denver is playing on the inflight radio, blue skies... and I manage to behave... for a short while...
"Is that issue #32 where Jughead and Reggie get caught wearing prom dresses?"
The stewardesses like me and keep bringing me things like pilot wings, playing cards, drinks, they sit with me and chat. ... then I break out the Malted Milk Balls.
One by one they join me and we gorge ourselves on Malted Milk Balls together. " Get these out of here - we have no will power."
Stewardesses at this date in time have strict weight policies and retiring age is 32 yrs. old. They're young, starving and hot.
The stewardess sitting next to me decides I have to meet the pilot and see the cockpit. We walk up the aisle and knock on the door at the front of the plane.
Next thing we're having a little party; the pilot, co-pilot and a few stewardesses and me, stuffing our faces with Malted Milk Balls and joking around. Nobody is paying attention to anything but the deliciousness of the exquisite Malted confections.
We fly straight into a thunderhead... lightning strikes the plane.
Lights flash, warning sounds are beeping and the plane begins to drop.
"Get him out of here!" the pilot screams as he tries to regain control of the plane.
I run out of the cockpit, up the aisle and buckle myself into my seat in coach.
The plane feels like it is falling out of the sky. Sh*t in your pants scary.
Drinks spill, things get tossed, over-head compartments open, things fall out.
I manage to not drop a single Malted Milk Ball.
The plane recovers, an announcement apologizes for the turbulence, and we glide into a beautiful blue sky landing in Albuquerque.
Exiting the plane the pilot and co-pilot are smiling and nodding like a couple of bobble-heads. I give them the last two Malted Milk Balls. My uncle is there waiting for me. We have to stop by his Nuclear Laboratory on the way home.
That's a place I could get into REAL trouble.
