England’s newspaper, The Mail, published excerpts from my book today. The words are a little odd when divorced from the paintings but you can read them here.
Year: 2012
The book I never meant to write
My new book, A Kiss Before You Go (I’ve taken to calling it AKissB4UGo, but then I’ve always been a Prince fan), is about to arrive in stores and I’ve been thinking a lot about the last couple of years in which I made it. It’s the favorite of my books, the one I love the most, yet, of course, it’s a book I never wanted to write.
To write a book about losing Patti seems like insanity. To take the worst thing that ever happened to me and turn it into art and share it with everyone? It’s a crazy idea.
The first time I gave the book to Jack, the person to whom I had dedicated the book, his reaction was, “Dad, I already went through this once. I don’t know if I want to go over it again.” For him, reading the book was reliving the worst of times. But it hasn’t been like that for me and I’ll try to tell you why.
My life changed so much while I wrote it. I started it bereft, confused, having no idea where my life was going to go, if my life could even continue. I didn’t know if I could be a father. I didn’t know if I could go back to work. I was going through feelings and fears unlike anything I’d ever been through before. But, despite all of the pain, it seemed like an incredibly important time in my life. The time in which maybe I could learn some things that Patti seemed to pick up over the last 20 years. How to accept what life gives me. To see the good in other people To understand the real value of being alive. Little things like that. That first summer Jack broke his wrist and the doctor told us that once the bone healed it would be stronger than ever. The place where you break becomes the place you can lean on.
I’ve been keeping an illustrated journal for so long. I’ve recorded the things that I’ve eaten, the places I’ve gone, the people and critters that surround me. But after Patti died, my journal had a whole new purpose. This time seemed like it was full of lessons. And it seems like if I let those lessons and experiences and revelations slip through my fingers rather than taking them as blessings and gifts I would be wasting the most important experience of my life. I would be doing Patti a disservice, a terrible one. She learned to turn the horror of her disability into a life transforming act. She had become wise and generous person over the years she spent in that wheelchair. She helped others. She had developed grace.
And while I may not be able to hope for the same, every day I sense her spirit in me. And that spirit was guiding me to seek the importance in life. To understand… something, I didn’t know what. So I became like a student taking notes in class. Writing down my thoughts, my dreams, the revelations that I was handed as I looked at these everyday things around me. Suddenly scrubbing the floor, buying some ice cream, watching my dog sleep in the sun, felt full of significance. I didn’t fully understand that significance, I don’t know that I still do yet, but I was damned if I was going to let it slip to my fingers. So I wrote in my journal and I drew and painted the things around me. I captured them and held onto them. And slowly but surely I filled book after book with drawings and truths.
A good book is a journey. The hero confronts difficulties and emerges transformed. But my journey wasn’t fiction, it was real life. It didn’t have such a neat conclusion. There wasn’t a moment where I stood on a mountain as the sun broke through the clouds and revealed the truth in all its glory. Life isn’t that easy.
But there’s no question this journey has changed me. It revealed and reordered my priorities. It has taken away my greatest fears. The fear of losing everything. Material possessions. Loved ones. And the greatest fear of all, the fear of my own death. But I am not nihilistic, cynical or jaded. I am purged.
I sit in my home alone as I write this. My wife is gone. My son is gone. My dogs are asleep. And I am fine.
Because Patti — even though she’s reduced to the ashes in the cookie jar on the bookshelf in my living room — is also inside of me. I don’t mean this in a spiritual, mumbo-jumbo kind of way. I don’t mean it in a Jesus, afterlife, heavenly kind of way. And I don’t mean it in a ghostly astral projection, Patrick Swayze kind of way either.
I just mean that the memory of Patti Lynn Gregory, the example that she set, the warmth and caring that was in her, affect me every day. She lives on in this feeling inside me. And that is something I need to share. I need to share it with the people around me and I need to share with people around the world. And that’s with this book is for.
Have these words made you want to read my book? Or scared you off? Have I made it seem heavy and grim? I promise you it’s not.
I’ve lived through sad and scary times. But this book isn’t terribly sad or scary. It’s about life. It’s about love and it’s about how you carry on. Which is something that all of us need to keep on doing, whether we’ve suffered a loss or not.
These days, I’m a positive and fulfilled person. And I don’t regret anything that happened to me. In the time since I started writing this book, I’ve learned how to be happy in my own skin. To accept what happens to me. And to be truly glad of each day. I haven’t completed the journey and there are certainly times I feel like I still have a long way to go. But I know I’m headed in the right direction. And I’d like to share with you what it’s been like. So that it will matter. And so that Patti’s life will matter.
Okay, in the next days and weeks, I’d like to tell you more about the book and how it came about and what’s in it and show you some the things that aren’t in it so you can get a good sense of what it’s all about. I’d also love to hear other people’s impressions of the AKissB4UGo. What do you think? You can find out by picking up a copy at your local bookstore or online. And then please, please write to me and let me know if you like it and what it means to you. Oh, and share it with friends. As I’ve said, my goal in all this is to share my experience so others can benefit from it — the more the merrier.
Thanks, and stay tuned.
Giving Thanks
I recently told you about some of the commercials I’ve been making. Here’s the first one. It will only run for the next two or three days in the US starting tomorrow. If you have the TV on while you eat your turkey, you’ll be hard-pressed to miss.
It was shot by Jeff Preiss of Epoch films, edited by Charlie Johnston at Lost Planet, scored by Mark Isham and produced by Drew Lippman.
Maira
I love Maira Kalman’s work. I’m sure you’ve seen her books and illustrations. I have long been a big fan of her husband Tibor Kalman, one of the great designers of the last century. He passed away at a youngish age, like Patti. I just got this letter from Maira, somewhat delayed by the storm. I am awed.
It’s coming!
My book has now officially shipped from Chronicle’s warehouses and is wending its way to bookstores. I checked with my local Barnes & Noble and they said it’d be in the Biography section on November 28th. Amazon also predicts they’ll have it in customer’s mailboxes on the same date. If you’d like to preorder one on line, you can do it here.
If you just can’t wait, check out this trailer for the book. It’ll give you a healthy taste of what’s to come. I hope it whets your appetite!
If you would like to add this video to your own blog or Facebook page, I would be so happy and grateful. All you need to do is click on the share button on the upper right hand side of the screen and a window will open with code you can copy. If you need help doing it, let me know.
I had a lot of help from my friends in making this video: Butch Belair (remember him from this film?) did all the incredible special effects. Ben Lear composed the lovely soundtrack, “Scuba Lessons”.
My old pal, Tom Jucarone at Sound Lounge, recorded my voiceover and made the whole thing sound amazing. And I got a lot of great advice and guidance from my brilliant friends, JJ WIlmoth, Tommy Kane and Bruce Davidson.
Order your copy today!
First review of AKissB4UGo
Some very nice words about my new book. If you’d like a copy of your own, you can order one now:
http://blog.2modern.com/2012/11/artistic-tearjerker-a-kiss-before-you-go.html
Backblog 2
Just to recap and explain my absence over the past months, here are some souvenirs from my second consecutive shoot. We are making a big commercial that will run on Thanksgiving Day — if you watch American TV for even a minute on November 22, you’ll certainly see it. If not, I’ll post a copy later this month.
We filmed around New York City and Westchester in the days leading up to the arrival of Hurricane Sandy. In fact, we wrapped the evening the storm finally arrived on our shores.
Our first location. This seems like ages ago, an idyllic Fall day in Brooklyn. Now all of these leaves have been blown away by the hurricane. Hopefully the house is still standing.
My director Jeff and I have made commercials together for over 20 years. We’ve shot in New York, California, Chicago, and Rome and the results are always spectacular. He’s one of my favorite creative collaborators and I can’t wait to see his feature film, scheduled to come out next year.
We shot three scenes with large, extended, real families making and sharing Turkey Day. The food styling was extraordinary and cornucopian.
We used real stores, streets, yards and homes as our locations.
Jeff shot with several different cameras, film and digital: 35 mm., a Canon 5D, a Canon C300, and his personal collection of Bolexs.
We filmed a master craftsman as she and her team blew extraordinary glass vases.
We shot a factory scene in a giant warehouse full of old machines from New York’s dwindling manufacturing industry.
On our final Day, we shot high atop the World Trade Center where crews were battening down their gear as the wind picked up. Then we hired a ferry to drive us back and forth past the Statue of Liberty as the sky grew menacing.
First returns.
Jack took the bus down from Providence last night so he could vote today. It’s his first time voting and his first time home since going away to college.
Tim and Joe went crazy when they first saw/smelled him.It’s been great to have him home, if even for just a few hours. We immediately slid back into old habits, ordered in Italian food, watched TV and talked about art. It was even nice to see Jack’s socks abandoned on the living room rug.
Sadly, he’ll be back on the northbound bus before dinner.
Backblog
Now that my house is back to normal, I want to catch up on the all things I have been doing for the past month.
Shoot #1: Three weeks ago, I traveled to Los Angeles to shoot some commercials for AIDS Day (December 1st). We filmed near Santa Clara in a fantastic location, an entire Mexican village that was built just to be used as a set. It has a half-dozen streets lined with bars and churches and various hovels, all uninhabited and weathered in the hot California sun. I’ve used it as a stand in for West Africa twice now.
Back in LA, we shot in an abandoned hospital which was still full of equipment and supplies. It was like something from “The Walking Dead,” and filled me with an eerie feeling that resurfaced during last week’s power outage in New York.
The shoot went very smoothly (I’ll post a link to the commercials when they’re done) and then I flew back to New York and immediately went into production for another client, shooting around the city and environs. More on that in my next post…
Aprés le deluge
I woke up at 4:25 this morning. The lamp next to my bed had just come on after being dark since Monday night. It was an incredible relief to have power again and I crawled out from under the covers to survey the house. All the radiators were on, valiantly pushing back the accumulated cold. The lamps in the living room were just like they were when we were interrupted while watching “Damages” on Netflix on Monday night, thinking we were just going to enjoy a long weekend once the storm had passed, a million years ago. I tested the elevator. It whirred right up; now we wouldn’t have to trudge up and down the eight flights of fire stairs carrying the dogs for their constitutional. We could clear away the candles that surrounded our nightly card games, empty the flashlights of the batteries we’d hoarded, toss out the empty beer bottles and spent matches.
I was lucky, of course. My sister’s home was swamped, her basement filled to the ceiling with Atlantic Ocean, her car destroyed. It may be six months before they are whole again. My little niece who just started kindergarten could be out of school for a month or more. And so many other people lost it all, in some cases their lives. I don’t need to tell you that—you are probably far better informed than I am, clinging to my dwindling cel phone and my staticky radio.
I am also lucky because I was given another wakeup call, a reminder of how inundated I am with media and luxury and bullshit. To spend the evening listening to a crackling jazz station and eating beans on toast by candlelight is a rare pleasure, a reminder of the simpler things. I hope I don’t lose the insights Sandy gave me. And I hope the next storm isn’t even worse.
Danny Gregory 