NY TIMES MEETING 6-21-05
I finished up my sketching for a new Maxim project due in a week or so, and having not made it out to see my old pal RAN-D 's new apartment, and having not chilled in Hoboken in some time (not since HALLOWEEN), I took the Path Train from 14th St. over to the Hoboken Terminal and met up with him at a bar on River Street called ODDFELLOWS REST. It looked like on an on night (not a Monday night) this place could be jumpin', but this night, it was dead. After a NYC priced mixed drink we split out for greener pastures. (On a side note, when the hell did Hoboken start thinking it was New York?)
Ran-D is single, so a bar with more available women is key. We hit up about five other bars, all were dead as dirt. Some were packed, but the male to female ratio was about 20 to 1 in each. I didn't know that Hoboken was a sausage fest on Mondays. I guess women are more responsible, who knows?
We stopped in a little pizza place and I bought two slices. I should have bought one. For two bucks the slice was huge. They literally cut a large pie into four pieces. The pizza wasn't that great though, I guess they figure they have to make up for the poor quality with quantity. I crashed on Ran-D's pull out couch watching DR. KATZ and a few episodes of HBO's ENTOURAGE On Demand.
I'm usually awake at 7:00 in the morning, but not waking-up at 7:00 in the morning. I'm usually still awake from the previous day. Well, this day I actually set an alarm to wake-up at 7:00. As I brushed my teeth I was entertained by a display of Ran-D's roommates three cats pouncing and skidding all over the living room furniture. I got dressed, folded up the couch, put on my headphones and listened to Stern talking to Paris Hilton's Mom while I headed for the path train back to the city stopping to pick up a copy of The New York Times at a bodega on the way.
I read a bulk of the paper on the path train and got off at 33rd Street and transferring to an F, which I took up to Times Square.
Having lived on 43rd street for a year half a decade a go I have grown to hate Times Square, but it was fun to actually be able to go in the building for which the square was actually named. I took the shot at the head of this post with my camera phone. Just out of frame of that photo there is the bronze inscription above the door: "ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT." This place is history existing and working in the modern day.
I had a 9:00 AM meeting with Steve Heller, the Senior Art Director of THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW SECTION. I've always wanted a crack at the cover of the book review section. I've just never done anything proactive towards getting it. It's one of the only prestigious full page newspaper art pieces left in America which is nationally read, and respected, so to get that coveted spot, there is only one man show book to, Steve Heller, and this morning I would be doing just that. This was also the first editorial art director I have ever called who was so bombarded on a daily basis with illustrators and artists wanting to show him their portfolios that he has a special secretary who's sole job is to screen his calls and schedule appointments for him to review portfolios. I've actually had this meeting scheduled for about a month.
I entered the lobby, an unassuming, white, one desk with security guard. It was a white (yellowing around the edges probably from a century of cigarette smoke) artless room with electronic turnstiles and a few clunky phones on a banister. The guard told me to call upstairs and then they would transfer to him and he'd buzz me in. I did just that. He handed me a visitor sticker, I slapped it on, signed in and was in the elevator.
I got out of the elevator and I realized I was sweating. Walking around in subways in the summer time in dress pants will do this to you once you get into a building and stop moving. I looked left and there was Steve Heller (Just as he looked in pictures I had remembered from back in the days of Art School). This guy is a legend in the industry and now he was just standing there about 80 feet away. He said "Hello."
Now I had the awkward walk. He already entered into conversation. Seeing that he wasn't walking to greet me, I would have to walk awkwardly towards him, continuing the conversation while walking. Nobody can do this in a cool way. A span of 80 feet to walk, and shake a hand. He already said hello, so I have to say hello while walking, and am compelled to continue my introduction while walking, er, trying to walk fast and bridge the span. How loud to talk? Do you lower your decibel as you get closer? Adjust for acoustics? When do you start lowering your decibel? When do you reach your hand out for proper introduction after walking at a near jog?
I reached my hand out far too soon so I had to walk forward a few too many steps with an outstretched hand. Way too many to be cool. The office looked like any normal office, not like any office art was produced in, or people were brought into, I'm sure that office was on a different floor. This office was pure business and deadline. There were file cabinets everywhere, and every available flat surface was piled high with paperwork. He took me to a conference room. I spread out my portfolio in front of him on the table, and handed him my resume and business card.
He went through the portfolio page by page as I described the clients and the projects. This process is so old hat to me it's practically mechanical. It's interesting though to see people's reactions to certain pieces, what questions they ask, and which pages catch certain people's eyes. Which pages they linger on more than others. He particularly liked THIS PIECE I did for Maxim a few years ago. It printed like the frames in the lower right, but I like to keep the original in my portfolio- showing the monopoly dude coming home late, puking on a wedding cake, and having adulterous sex. (You can see all my Maxim work HERE).
He seemed to really dig my work. The bitch about Newspapers is that they fall into a set group of artists they consistently use. They create the look of the paper, and people become used to seeing them on a regular basis, so unless one dies, or something strange happens, me or any other artist squeaking in is very rare. He told me something to that effect, but he did say, "This is fun stuff. I like what you are doing. Nice work." A good quote I can use in my quote section, and the fact that I met him in person and he knows I exist was worth waking up for. Life is very long. I guarantee before mine is over I will have done at least one cover of The New York Times Book Review section.
When I left the building I felt great. As I exited two guys dropped a hand truck when going up the curb just in front of The New York Times Building. I assume they were heading to a Japanese restaurant next door. The hand truck was piled high with boxes of expensive wine, and when they hit the ground they exploded. Glass, cardboard and wine everywhere. It was quite a spectacle. You know when the city turns on a fireplug and the water floods into the street and runs down the side of the curb into a gutter? Well, picture that much liquid running down the side of the street, but instead of water, it's thousands of dollars of imported red wine.
I stepped over the broken glass, thinking of the beautiful lawsuit somebody could file if they were to walk this block and trip. I picked up a bagel and an iced coffee and walked across the square to BRYANT PARK to sit among the tourists. (If you've never been to Bryant Park, it's a very clean green park with lots of free seating and tables for eating just behind the NY PUBLIC LIBRARY- the one with the lion sculptures from Ghost Busters). I took a cool snap of THE FOUNTAIN with my camera phone. For some reason my cameraphone seems to make everything look angelic.
I decided to spend the next hour in Chinatown, needing a new pair of chopsticks, before heading back to the studio to work on the Maxim finish.
Just another day in the life of an Art Juggernaut.
-Cojo