Thursday, August 26, 2004

BusterStronghart@Gmail.com



Ringing the Bell


In Paris, in 1924, Man Ray painted his favorite model, Kiki, and added an actual pushbutton on her breast. At the first show of this work, he attached electric wiring, a buzzer, and a battery to the frame of the painting, visible to the public. The wiring led to the button which, as I explained above, was attached to her breast.

Man Ray, however, decided that the buzzer would not buzz when the button was pressed.

When I read about this work in his autobiography I thought about the expression “pushing my button,” and realized that my buzzer usually buzzes, and sometimes very loudly. On the other hand, there are some people whose buttons do not ever set off their bell.

Maria has told me that in my old age my button isn't working as often as it used to, and she is worried about this—which interests me, because one might have thought that she would be relieved that I don't take on every fool who steps in my path anymore. -----Especially as she used to be very embarrassed by my outbursts.

By the way, Man Ray desired that his name be indexed as “Man Ray,” not “Ray, Man.” Most indexers either are ignorant of his desire or are ignoring it. In addition, you may be interested to know that as a child he lived a block from Katz Drug Store, and that he attended the same schools (grammar and high school) that my Dad did. They were two years apart in age so I imagine that if their paths did not actually cross they may have had the same very good Irish spinster teachers and mutual friends.

Certainly, Emmanuel Radnitsky must have wandered into my grandfather Aaron Katz’ drug store at least once wearing his knickers. At the time the Katz’ lived above the store. Manya, Emmanuel Radnitsky’s mother's father was a pharmacist in Minsk so, who knows, she may have pitched in and helped at the store too.

It is hard for me to believe that there was no contact between the families.

Talking about knickers, there was a boxing match at the Polo Grounds in 1916 when my Dad was 14 years old. He knew one of the fighters, Sailor Levitsky, and wanted to see the fight. He was denied entrance at the gate on the grounds that he was too young. He demanded admission asserting , “What'd you mean, too young? See, I'm wearing long pants.” -- Admission granted.

Later, in 1923, he saw Jack Dempsey floor Luis Firpo for the final time in the fourth round. But by then Dad was already wearing suits and Fedoras.

August 2004