Back from Beantown




Jack and I took a brief break from New York with 75 hours or so in Boston. Neither of us had ever spent time there before —though with the torrential Nor’Easter dumping all over New England, I’m not sure we saw it at its best. We trained up there, stayed in Cambridge and managed to see Harvard (infinitely inferior to my alma mater, of course), its art and natural history museums, then visited the Institue of Contemporary Art and the Science Museum. We saw some movies, had some nice meals, played cards,talked, and drew in our journals. I broke out my watercolors for the first time in ages, and Jack bore down on his dip pen.

It was a refreshing break after a very sad week, giving us some distance and perspective, as well as a chance to start our lives as a smaller family. Drawing was a relief to both of us, a feeling that we were making something out of the nothingness, and seeing a new place with fresh eyes. Our journal pages will be a landmark for us, the first fresh pages we are turning over, with many blank ones ahead to fill.

One thing I hadn’t anticipated: Patti was always the first person to read my journal pages after I finished them. Somewhere in Boston, it occurred to me that I write for her to read and that she  wouldn’t read them, ever again. But then I realized I will always write for her, she will always be my favorite reader.

Patti’s passion

Dear Friends:

As you have heard, my wife Patti passed away last week.

She was a lovely, creative person who gave me strength, inspiration, ideas and love. She was always extraordinarily positive — despite what the pathetic initial media reports may have told tell you.

A couple of days ago, our friends put together a lovely tribute to her memory. Hundreds of people jammed the place, singing songs, sharing stories, crying, laughing, and celebrating her life and approach to it. There was a huge crowd out on the street  waiting their turn to get in to share the festivities. She touched so many, and the spheres of her influences all came together on Wednesday nigh:  school friends, librarians, fashionistas, moms, dads, kids, chefs, florists, all celebrating the bright perspectives and willingness to take risk with which she infected them all. There were many people who were professionally creative— artists, musicians, photographers, authors, directors, ad folk — but also lawyers, doctors, accountants and stay-at-home moms whose creative juices were stirred by Patti’s inspiration  I was never prouder of her.

Everyday Matters was the fruit of our family’s mission to celebrate our daily gifts in the face of the random crap life throws at us. That mission grew from Patti’s heart. The fact that she has gone does not diminish the importance of this mission to me and to all of us. Life is wonderful. Its riches don’t lie in bank accounts or career success, power or fame. We just need to look around us, at the beauty of a wrinkled orange skin, the ray of sunshine across a wooden table, the curve of a napping pet, an abandoned shoe, a building against the sky. To reap those riches, I use a pen and a small book. I meditate on what I see, and transcribe that reflection in my book.  The lines I make, sometimes sure and sharp, sometimes wobbly and vague, are the deposit I make in my account, the way I capture life’s true rewards and value.

In the days following Patti’s death, I lost my appetite, my ability to sleep, my concentration, my will. I hesitated to pick up a pen. Nothing seemed to matter, let alone the everyday. But then, after some time spent staring into space, I began again to draw. And I must and will continue. Drawing brings me meaning. To abandon it would betray Patti’s memory and myself.  I hope that if you are hesitating to draw, beating yourself up because you’re not good enough, telling yourself you have no time to spare, feeling distracted and down,  remember that, though life can be plucked from us at any moment, it is  full of wonder and beauty. Keeping an illustrated journal is the perfect way to capture and treasure the gems that lie all around us.  A few minutes a day make it all worth while.

Patti  made things all the time, knitting, sewing, singing, making collages, gifts, drawings, paintings, flower arrangements, photos, and more. Creativity was her passion and she loved people who loved to create. I hope you will help to keep her love and spirit alive.

Your pal,

Danny

Posted in Art

A night I'll never forget

Last night we had the most extraordinary memorial tribute to Patti. There were over 200 people attending and people had to wait outside to get in. There was singing and story telling and orchids and roses and the most love I have felt in my life.

My joke with the many friends who helped to plan the evening was that we should have a party so fantastic that Patti would be really mad she wasn’t there. The evening was that and much more … and Patti did attend — her spirit was very much alive all night.
Jack and I talked when we’d come home and both felt the same thing: that the horrible void we’ve had since last Thursday has been replaced by a peaceful knowledge that we are going to be alright because so many, many people loved Patti and us and will always be there for us, making sure we don’t go off the rails.
Thank you everyone who was there and to the many others who sent us messages of peace and support. We are very fortunate.

Patti

Thank you all for your wonderful messages of support. You can share more on this special tribute page on Facebook.

Old Mad Men

Tom Kane and I started working together in 1984 (!). We were junior ad men at a now-defunct New York  agency. Decades later, we are drawing-buddies, not colleagues; when we hang out, we occasionally reminisce about our careers and how things have changed over the years. Last weekend, we set up a couple of cameras while we sat around and recorded our chat about bygone days. If you remember stat machines or sending out for type or hand-drawn layouts  anything about design and production before everything went digital, you might enjoy this conversation. We did.

Old Mad Men. Part 1.

Old Mad Men. Part 2.

Old Mad Men. Part 3.