Matt Weinstock -- April 6, 1959
April 6, 2009 | 4:00 pm
Works of ArtWhen he finishes his day's work at the easel, Lenard Kester, like many other artists, smears the surplus paint on unworked canvases. Otherwise, it would harden overnight and be wasted. It is not only relaxing to make these bold, free brushstrokes after the tension of serious work, but, as artists know, the undercoat thus created is easier to work on than raw canvas.
The paint has dried on several dozen such canvases with eerie effects, and Kester's friends keep urging him to exhibit these underpaintings as abstractions, perhaps under another name in another city, with such titles as "Soul in Torment," "Fog Over Bayou" Or "Eye of the Hurricane."
Kester adamantly refuses. He has a reason.
TWELVE YEARS AGO, prodded by fun-loving Jim Moran and Ben Hecht, Kester, a representationist in style, perpetrated one such meaningless daub and Georg Antheil, who died recently, submitted it to an L.A. Art Assn. exhibit. Although the painting, titled "Three in One," was a complete nothing, it was accepted, shown, critically pondered and purchased by Mad ManMuntz -- before being exposed as a hoax.
As a result, Kester was in the doghouse with serious artists, of which he is one, for a long time.
Incidentally, Kester is reluctantly giving up his beloved studio at 1117 N. Genessee, formerly County Engine Co. No. 8, where he has worked and lived for eight years, because of the penetrating mechanical hum from a nearby manufacturing plant. The noise bores through his moods. He and the neighbors have complained officially, but nothing can be done.
A HIGH SCHOOL teacher, trying to introduce a little geography into the consciousness of her students, pointed out and named several present and former British and Dutch possessions in the East Indies, then said, "And there are many, many others."
Afterward, she came upon a boy scrutinizing the map and asked what he was looking for.
"I'm hunting for Many Many Others," he said.
BEGINNING TO PALL, PAL
Give me a journalist,
Genius or hack,
Who'll find a new adjective
For "oil-rich" Iraq.
A WRITER WITH a mad, irreverent approach to life went to his doctor recently and learned he had a white count of 17,500. The doc gave him some pills and on his next visit his count was down to 15,400.
"If it goes any lower, doc," he said feverishly, "sell!"
ONLY IN HOLLYWOOD -- Well there was this innocent bloke waiting while a lady in a market parking lot got into her car, adjusted her face, fished for her keys, got the wrong one, got the right one, inserted it in the ignition slot, started the car and finally backed out.
As she did, another lady driver darted into the space. The bloke said that wasn't nice. She glared icily at him.
It happens all the time. What does a bloke do? This one followed her around the market and when her back was turned slipped small items into her shopping cart -- anchovies, baby food, shoe polish, yeast, patede fois gras, buffalo meat.
The last he saw of her she was virtually apoplectic at the check stand. Made him very happy.
MISCELLANY -- Nice line by Tom Ferril in the Rocky Mountain Herald: "They had that buoyant furtiveness of old-time bootleggers" ... Hal Morris sleepily pressed the push button of what he thought was shaving cream on his face the other a.m. It was toothpaste --the containers are similar -- and now his whiskers have an "invisible shield" ... Bartender Jose Sanchez thinks he reached bottom in boring ear-bending. A customer moaned at length at a radio announcer's lack of enthusiasm in giving the weather reports.