By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
The fact that I personally acted as a friend and accompanied Mr. Young for both eye and dental exams, shopped for him, and helped to set up his first-ever bank account as well as a money-market account, has only helped to lay a blueprint for other persons who later became involved with his career.
My feelings regarding not putting Purvis Young "on display" have historical references. Were Picasso or Rembrandt seated on chairs at an exhibition with a sketch book so the public could watch them? I think not. To preserve a certain mystique about an artist, it is wiser to allow the works on display to speak to the viewer rather than have the viewer observing the artist.
Concerning my son Howard Davis, he was not, nor has he ever been, in the business of selling or promoting Purvis Young's work to "major collectors." What he did, besides introduce me to the artist, was to be a trustworthy friend who cared for Mr. Young and acted only in his interest. His admiration and concern for Purvis both as an artist and a human being were appreciated by Mr. Young for many years.
Finally, and most important, I am outraged and appalled at the fact that of the ten photographs reproduced in the article attributed to Mr. Young, eight of them were from my gallery. Yet New Times and Ms. Cantor chose not to have the journalistic courtesy to give the Joy Moos Gallery our deserved credit line. Even the painting on the cover, which is now part of an exhibition at ArtServe Gallery in Fort Lauderdale, was not recognized with a proper photo credit.
In the future, Ms. Cantor, when you are a guest in my gallery for an hour-and-a-half interview, and when you send your photographer for another hour and a half of shooting paintings, with my assistant and me dragging out and showing dozens of works, please remember this: While you may slant your articles as you choose, you cannot reproduce photographs of works without giving credit where credit is due: "Courtesy Joy Moos Gallery."
Joy Moos Gallery
Let Me Tell You a Few Things About Body Odor
Kirk Nielsen's article "A Vicious Cycle" (May 20) was of particular interest to me because I bike seven miles to work every good-weather day. Although I enjoy biking (it makes me feel good and keeps my half-century-old legs in better shape than most people half my age), I also do it as an "alternative mode of transit."
Unlike Commissioner Javier Souto's politically motivated joy ride to work, I'm out there with the cars in the morning, seriously trying to be on time like other commuters. As a serious biker I'd like to see less showmanship from members of the Metropolitan Planning Organization and have them show me the money that's going into alternative transportation.
Where are those buses with bike racks? Bicycles are not as sturdy as autos, get flats much more easily, and there's no roadside service. If I get a flat or throw a chain, it sure would be comforting to know that I could get me and my bike home on a bus instead of facing a seven-mile walk.
It appears that members of the MPO are not very familiar with the needs of cyclists. Bicycle parking racks are nice, but signposts and meters work fine with a U-bar lock. Bike routes would be fine, too, but do it like Gainesville. Don't give us some scenic meandering bike path. We don't have the luxury of a two-hour joy ride when trying to get to work. Put bike routes on the major thoroughfares, the most direct and fastest way to get around.
Also don't worry about showers; sweat dries and doesn't stink! An explanation for those who haven't studied sweat: Eccrine sweat, the kind that comes from exertion and heat, is basically salt water and can be dried off and is odorless. Apocrine sweat, the oily sweat in the armpits that bacteria eat and gives us our peculiar odor, is stimulated by sexual arousal or anxiety and is not affected by exertion or heat. In fact the eccrine sweat in the armpits actually removes some of the apocrine sweat, reducing the odor if wet clothing is changed.
So the need for showers is just an imagining of someone who doesn't bike to work each day. I just polled my co-workers to see if they've ever noticed an odor from me and I got a clean bill of smell from a couple of women who would not be shy about telling me the truth. I never shower. I just get the sweat-soaked shorts and T-shirt off, wipe down with paper towels, throw a little rubbing alcohol in the pits, and put on my work clothes. Of course I don't have to lug a suit around, but many people work in slacks and shirt sleeves.
I was very glad to see New Times address this shameful neglect of alternative transit. I hope the federal government's bike money is earmarked so it can't be wasted on lighthouses and road beautification. The MPO should be forced to make a bike path on that road. Now that would be beautiful.