Ad Reinhardt

, a retrospective of comics.

‘It was at one of the bookstands outside Gray’s Papaya on West 4th. I was waiting for my friend to get his face fixed. I picked up a copy of Transmissions magazine and started thumbing through it. They looked like Max Ernst collages, but tasted like sucking on batteries. They were mean they named names, and they reminded me of domestic squabbles I’ve heard through the walls of my apartment. They weren’t comics, really. I mean, they didn’t go in one direction like comics do. They roamed in a sort of semantic geometry in which the shortest distance between any two points is a fullish circle. More than comics, they are like a Rosetta Stone, or an aerial-map of an infrastructure and society that by today’s portly standards looked homely. And they’ve got some of that…come let us speak of perfection and get ourselves rather disliked…stuff going for them. I got goofy at the stand when I saw them and the vendor doubled the price without moving his mouth.

I told him to go fuck himself, negotiating strategy I learned from the Richard Pryor laser-disc that my grandmother and I burned-out in her living room.

“Uh-huh,” He said.

“This is junk, man, some 60’s nightlife artifact,” I said.

“Price remains,” He said.

“It’s worthless,” I said.

“Looks priceless from here,” he said.

And just as I was finishing my lengthy indictment of his business practices with, “and furthermore you’ll be the luckiest bastard on the whole blue marble if two wealthy-buzzards from the 60’s come up here with the memory of?,” when two wealthy buzzards from the 60’s, one sligthly older, both laughing their heads off, came up and said, “Owh, Diane, It’s Transmissions! Don’t you remember Transmissions? Owh, Diane, look at it. New York isn’t what it used to be, is it, Diane. Owh, Diane we have to get it. We have to Get it.”

The vendor went ear to ear and brought his face close to mine and said, “Nostalgia is a fucking bestseller here.”

The Chrysler Series is sponsored by Coburn Greenberg Partners.