:: NEWS COCKTAIL aka BlahBlahBlog ::

:: 1.31.2003 ::

:: In honor of Frank de Costa ::

I received the news this week -- almost a month after the fact -- that Frank de Costa had passed away while on vacation in London for the holidays. There was a piece in the local paper about him. We weren't fantastically close. In fact, as stated in an e-mail to a friend of mine (who was much more familiar with Frank), we had only a few odd meetings, but I really enjoyed his company each time I had the pleasure.

I first met him not long, apparently, after he arrived in this area with his wife, Genie. An artist, Frank had a show of his paintings installed locally at the Cumberland Theatre. My Mom, who volunteered there at the time with Genie, mentioned the exhibit, so I stopped by to check it out.

There was a busload of tourists there at the time of my visit, and while I walked through the crowded gallery area, I noticed a couple of teenage girls discussing the artwork. "That's so weird,” mused one. "But it's cool," the other returned. “Yeah, and I wonder what that's supposed to be," they both seemed to say simultaneously, pointing to some detail of one of the paintings. Frankly, the painting itself isn’t as vivid in my memory as what happened next.

As the girls stared, wonderingly, I noticed someone else from the crowd nearby, and smiled realizing that he too was privy to this discussion. We both let out a little lighthearted laugh, simultaneously, and I instinctively knew who it was. "The artist I presume," I said, maneuvering through the crowd and reaching out to shake his hand. It was of course the painter, Frank de Costa, and this remains a favorite sort of serendipitous moment from my experiences thus far in life.

My other noteworthy encounter with Frank came on the occasion of the first annual poetry slam for the local university, Frostburg State. My performance was completely over-the-top. Dressed as a priest, I brandished a machete, Noriega-style, and performed a live cut-up poem, literally pulling random lines of text out of my hat. But I particularly enjoyed Frank's reading that evening. Appearing under the stage name "Frankie," I felt that his was a much more dignified, rational and enjoyable performance.

"Frankie, a local artist, got up and sang three pieces -- the only two poems he'd written in his life, as well as one spontaneously created on the stage -- delivered with his exquisite De Niroesque quality." This is how I described his charming appearance in a story I wrote about the evening entitled "The Father's Night Out" (published in bINGO nATION, SCREAM, Yellow Dog and the Internet Herald, among other places).

After the slam, I spent some time with Frank and Genie in Gandalf's, a pub that was @ the time across the street from the Gunter Hotel where the event took place. I had a great time chatting with them, both incredibly warm and witty individuals.

When I discovered the story in the paper, I sent an e-mail offering condolences to my friend Marc Slanger and his mother Judy Dieruf, as they were more familiar with Frank than I. I'm also drafting an e-mail for Genie, with whom my Mom was well acquainted from the theatre.

Marc modeled for a painting of Frank's that depicted Jesus and the Devil -- Marc being the model for both. I haven’t seen this piece, but I hope to have the chance.

People often repeat the mantra, "no regrets." However, regrets often loom large, haunting us. My thoughts range from sympathy for the family and friends involved, to my own regrets, and, to state it quite simply, my wish that I had seized other opportunities to become better acquainted with the person my friend Marc has referred to as "a real character.”

Leonardo da Vinci said, "as a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death." Frank was a prolific artist who had traveled extensively, had a family, many friends and was a source of pleasure for others that he came into contact with amidst the day-to-day chaos. So ultimately, I believe that Frank lived his life fully, and I can only hope that some day the same can be said of me and perhaps the best way to honor the memory of him and others is by doing exactly that.

Since I couldn't link directly to the story about Frank, I'm pasting it below:

Family remembering artist with service, sale
By Alison Bunting
Times-News Staffwriter

CUMBERLAND — The family of a local artist is observing his passing with a memorial service and “last chance” art sale.

Frank de Costa died Dec. 29 while he and his wife Genie were in Europe for the holidays. He was 59.

Frank and Genie de Costa had been “soul mates” for almost 28 years. His death was unexpected, she said. The coroner in London, where he died, told her he had an undetected heart disease.

Two of de Costa’s friends in Cumberland, Nelson Cleavenger and John Alderton, reflected on time they had spent with him.

Cleavenger met de Costa in summer of 1989 at the home of his neighbor, Anne DeVaughn, who also was a patron and friend of the artist.

“I would go into his studio, and talk about what was on the easel, talk about the book he was writing ... he would ask me to sit and do thus and so with your hands, ‘Sit this way and put your hat on, I want to get the light coming through this part of your ear,’” said Cleavenger.

“He liked to do studies of musicians. A lot of the paintings were jazzy musicians, but he would go to the symphony and do hands and feet, people holding instruments. He did sketches of his friends.”

Cleavenger owns an untitled piece by de Costa, which he describes as “big, a greenish-cast moonlit night of a man walking down a cobblestone street which could be any one of dozens in this town.”

Alderton, a fellow artist, met de Costa when he moved back here from Baltimore in 1995.

“Being an artist as well, I would talk to Frank. I wanted to know what goes on in an artist’s mind,” said Alderton, noting that de Costa also got him a few painting jobs.

“Frank wouldn’t hold back on how he felt. He had a good knowledge of the materials. He was a Renaissance man. He wrote, sang, played the saxophone.”

“He played ‘Danny Boy’ at the old Leasure-Stein Funeral Home at his mother’s funeral,” Cleavenger added.

Alderton said de Costa used to “hobo” across the country on the railroads. He studied the “ash can” painters of the 1920s, and painted scenes from “street life and the darker side of life.”

He did sign work for Clint Eastwood’s restaurant, said Alderton, and he was a musician and a writer.

Alderton owns an “almost never-seen nude” de Costa did while he was in New York, which he traded for two paintings of his own in addition to helping de Costa move.

De Costa was born in Patterson, N.J. He studied at the Newark School of Fine and Industrial Arts and the Art Student’s League in New York City. His pursuit of art also took him to Mexico, Miami, San Francisco, Fiji in the South Pacific, Monterey, Calif., and finally, Cumberland.

Locally he has exhibited at the Allegany Arts Council, Manhattan Centre Gallery, Allegany College of Maryland, the Cumberland Creative Arts Center, Gallery Next in Frostburg, Frostburg State University and the Washington County Museum in Hagerstown.

Shirley Giarritta, local arts advocate, remembers when de Costa and his wife arrived in Cumberland. Traveling by train, the artist said he would know when he arrived at the right place, and Cumberland was it. They got off the train and stayed here for 14 years.

Also surviving are the artist’s daughter, Selena de Costa, of Santa Rosa, Calif., a son, Michael Beal, of New Jersey, and brothers William and Rene de Costa and Ken da Costa.

The memorial service will begin Saturday, Feb. 1, at 6 p.m. at de Costa’s house at 505 Cumberland St. Friends are invited to speak about their memories of him.

At 7:30 p.m., the priest will bless the ashes of the deceased, the family and the house, according to Genie de Costa.

Artwork to be sold will include paintings, drawings and boxes of sketch pads. Some will be auctioned. What’s left will be taken by family members on Feb. 4.

“Everyone is invited to come. Frank would have wanted this to be like a party atmosphere. He would not have wanted it to be depressing or sad,” said Genie de Costa, who will be taping it for his friends in Monterey.

Mrs. de Costa also will be looking for a renter for the house, which has three bedrooms and a detached art studio with northern light.

“Frank made sure, the first thing he would do whenever he was looking at houses, he would look at the north light,” she said.

Posted by me=)

:: 3:29:00 PM [+] ::
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Evidently, BlahBlahBlog is even more unoriginal than I thought. Check out these search results. Well, no shock here. Although names always seem to be very arbitrary for me, they tend to stick (even those that are kind of, well... blah).

"Taking the blah out of blog." I like that. Something to aspire to. But, this will probably become just more BlahBlahBlog to clog the information superduperhighway. So be it.

"Spending an evening on the World Wide Web is much like sitting down to a dinner of Cheetos, two hours later your fingers are yellow and you're no longer hungry, but you haven't been nourished."
- Clifford Stoll

Posted by me=)

:: 8:37:00 PM [+] ::
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My interest in blogs is probably an extension of an old fascination with personal zines in print form. Factsheet Five had a section listing these zines that featured people's obsessive rants and raves, often about the things either governing or intersecting with their daily lives. This was my favorite. I in fact created my own humble entry for the genre (which only went 3 issues), mainly just to trade with other personal zinesters (common as a motivating factor). FF, incidentally, was a very well-known review guide and resource for mostly printed zines. However, it is no more. It has ceased to be. It's pushing up the daisies. It has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-zine guide. OK. But, you probably remember FF, and miss it as much as I do. The oddly-sized print (usually photocopied) zines could be replaced by my new attraction to these weblogs that have wildly proliferated. In any case, it is into this extraordinarily diverse arena that I bring BlahBlahBlog.

Yesterday, as if on autopilot, I created this, my first blog. A humble entry. Although I've walked around with the idea for a while (well, most of the month @ least), I hadn't really considered the specifics. But for some reason I could hear the Rollins Band, playing (SCREAMING) "Do It." When I found myself suddenly in the process of creating a new blog, I just typed some things off the top of my head, favoring the silly. But I had to establish this. The Rollins Band song ringing through my head offered good advice, a position you may not agree with, however.

All I can say for now is that hopefully this endeavor will evolve into something worth the time spent by both you and me. If not, I can think of two words: "Disappear here."

Posted by me=)

:: 10:51:00 AM [+] ::
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:: TESTING 1-2-3... ::

After one look at this planet any visitor from outer space would say "I want to see the manager."
- William S. Burroughs

Posted by me=)

:: 5:57:00 PM [+] ::
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