In 1965, I came to Philly to go to the Philadelphia College of Art. A major off-campus meeting place was a smoke-filled bar at 13th and Pine. In those days, you could find all manner people at Dirty Franks—lawyers, newspaper reporters, pretty women. There was Phineas Meed, a colorful antiques dealer who wore a three-piece suit and a bowler hat. He had a spot at the bar and you could find him there most afternoons. This was just a great place for art students to mix with real people and talk about art and life and, of course, drink.
Anyway, this was the early days of my art career in Philadelphia. Years later, Off The Wall Gallery began and I thought this would be a great place to show. So more years passed. I traveled to San Francisco, Mexico, Guatemala, Peru, Bolivia, West Virginia, and built a log cabin in Northern Liberties.
After all that I put some pieces in a juried show at Off The Wall Gallery, got accepted, and won a first place prize.
I drink a lot less than I did in the old days—usually a tonic on the rocks with a twist, rather than a gin and tonic. I am 76 years old and happy to be On The Wall and sitting at the bar.
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