History in the making, folks. A true artist at the zenith of his creativity.  Here's the story: It all started one morning when I was talking to John on the phone about some typesetting project. As we were signing off, I said, "Well, I've got to get my nose to the wheel....nose to the grindstone? Shoulder to the grindstone?" Oh, no. Too late! "We're gonna haf to put you in the hospital if you keep that up!" Shortly, I found him holding court at the coffee shop at Eastsound's Island Market, where he often works on writing his song lyrics, composing bad poetry, and snagging innocent shoppers into a serious session of bullshitting.  I caught on film the first reading of "ANATOMICALLY inCORRECT." When you read this poem -- inspired by moi! -- you'll see why I have a long way to go to claim the thone of the current Village Idiot. All bow.

Terry Anderson

Well, maybe I'm not so close to the throne of Village Idiot after all. What can you say to this face except, "What the SHIT happened to YOU?" In years past, Terry Anderson and I worked together renovating The Grange to be suitable for a teen center. I mean, we swept mouse turds and tore down plaster and boards (not plasterboard) from 20 foot high walls. (By the way, Kate Adams was a big part of that project, as was my sister Judy.)

Back to matters more at hand. What the hell DID happen to that face? Terry was hired to do a spraypainting job and didn't know it was oil base paint. He wore a respirator and a scarf, but his eyes were exposed to the white paint, which he can't wash off with thinner. He's walking around the Island Market looking like some voodoo zombie, so I had to take a picture. While he's posing, he tells me about how he (also a singer) recorded Susan Osborn's concert on this little DAT recorder that fit into the palm of his hand (yes, Susan knew about it). While at the art gallery opening before the concert, Terry and fellow musician Bruce Harvie were playing with the contraption. Bruce suggested Terry place the tiny mics at the sides of his head to create binaural stereo recording. At that suggestion, Bruce danced around Terry to demonstrate the 3D sound. Terry said a woman asked what they were doing and Bruce replied, "We're dowsing for water." When I developed this roll of film, I realized I'd caught them in the act. I remember seeing them and wondering, "What are those two clowns up to now?"

(Okay, so it's not a great shot. What ya expect at 100 ASA and 1/15 sec.?)
 

Carol Bee

From the ridiculous to the sublime. Carol Bee, CBee as I call her (or C-bee-dee-bee-dee if I'm silly), is a longtime friend who keeps moving away (currently is in Santa Rosa, CA, to be near grandkids) but keeps moving back.  She's the reigning expert on the Orcas Bungee Chord Effect. CBee is a top-notch editor in my book and I was very happy to have her work over my copy. She has a meta sense of humor, and when I get her goat, she squeels "CDub!!!" and looks like this!

Susan Osborn & Nancy Rumbel

Singer Susan Osborn and woodwind wonder Nancy Rumbel have known each other since their long stint together with the Paul Winter Consort. As a matter of fact, Susan met her husband David Densmore at a party at Nancy's house. Tingstad and Rumbel now play at Susan's Orcas Island venue, The Living Room, so I wanted to get a picture of them together in front of The Living Room sign. I snapped this picture when they started clowning around. "What should I title this?" I asked. "The Living GOONS!" squealed Nancy. "Oh, don't say that," screamed Susan. "She'll put it on her website." And so it is!

Jana at Snappy Photo in Eastsound
This lady humorously puts up with all my "and make it snappy!" demands when I bring in my film. Of course, I want the prints NOW. One day, I had a few extra frames to snap, so I took a few pictures at the photo counter.  She knew I was snapping, but when she turned around, she kept talking...about that day having to put to sleep her old, diabetic, blind doggie. It's not often we allow ourselves to be shot in our sadder moments, but I think it's valuable to catch those times, too. The bad times usually pass and you can remember, "Oh, that's the day I . . . " Composer Wendy Carlos posted pictures of her critters on her site, and purposefully took pictures of the last day with some of her pets. (I cry buckets every time I read her pets page.) Did she look like hell? You bet! I would too. No apologies needed.

Name Index   Part I   Part II   Part IV   Part V  Part VI

Copyright 2001, Carol Wright, all rights reserved

Carol Wright
P.O. Box 402 / Eastsound, WA  98245
cwright@rockisland.com

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