CULTURAL SUNDAYS

On the weekends Lance didn't go up to Woodstock with the gang, he'd try and take a break from the intensity of his work. He got a map of the local tourist spots and rode the subway all around town, even to the Bronx once to see the Botanical Gardens.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art on the eastern edge of Central Park with its Natural History and Ancient Art Sections were superb, as well as the Museum of Modern Art in Midtown Manhattan with it's Picasso drawings. Each floor exhibited a different era; impressionist, dadaist, fauvist painters, then on the top floor was one big room with a piece Monet painted at the turn of the 20th Century called, "Water Lilies." It was huge, about thirty-eight by forty-one feet. Looking up close, each of Monet's brush stokes were rough and undefined, but stand back and Lance wondered how the artist did it. The colors were so peaceful. It didn't just look real to Lance, it looked like it was alive. He left the museum wishing he could exhibit there one day.

The Guggenheim Museum on the Upper East Side of Manhattan was a trippy, multi-level, round building designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. You'd go up and up and around the spiral ramp leading to each floor.

Their exhibits were just as trippy. Although Lance could paint anything he put his mind to, he favored the human form. His mermaids and mythical sculptures were very realistic. As he walked through the Contemporary Gallery in the museum, it was amazing that everywhere he looked there was no attempt to include anything that resembled life or anything you could relate to. It was just weird. As far as content, message, or meaning, it was devoid and trying to tweak people's minds.

Someone suggested he visit a gallery in the Soho section of town. When he opened the door, all of the art pieces were sitting on the floor. He figured they were setting up the show so he left. When he went back a few days later, nothing had moved. It was still all on the floor. Lance was starting to get upset. This was New York City. Space was valuable. A week passed and the disorganized art gallery was really messing with his head. Then an article came out in the New York Times. The artist intentionally put his pieces on the floor. The way he dropped it and where it landed was the artist's message. Go figure.

One thing you could always count on were the amazing bookstores in the Village. Kind of like the messy contemporary gallery, there were stacks of books piled high on top of each other. You might find what you wanted, but then you'd have to figure out how to get it out to buy it. But it was worth it. The books were so extraordinarily cheap. Lance found large volumes with photos of outer space, and pictures of exploding galaxies for his mural.

Central Park was the biggest scene on Sundays. Everyone wore their best duds. There were street musicians, roller skaters, sometimes rallies, people would come out just to be seen. It was a lively show-off place.

Intentionally featured in the park for people to climb on were very artistic looking rock formations. Lance didn't realize it at first but it was bedrock. You could also see bedrock in the foundation of the skyscrapers surrounding the park. The ancient rocks in and around Central Park were where eons before the glaciers carved grooves in the exposed chunks of bedrock.

Lance even did the tourist thing, and had a girlfriend take him up to the top of the Empire State Building. They rode the elevator up the 102 floors to the observation deck. Four days earlier, the World Trade Center, which was under construction, passed up the Empire State Building in height. There was also the thirty-five cent round trip on the Staten Island Ferry, where they cruised past the Statue of Liberty.

All in all, Lance certainly didn't take advantage of everything New York City had to offer. He only skimmed the surface. But then again, he was there to do a job.