Clarence Hardy "C" Sharpe

When I first moved to NYC, I met a musician named Clarence Hardy "C" Sharpe about 3am while walking down Houston St. on the Lower East Side. He offered me a banana in trade for a cigarette. I felt that was a pretty good deal, so I gladly agreed, and we started talking and became friends.

He was holding a case and I asked him about it and he told me he played the sax and was playing in a little while. He gestured to a nondescript door with a light over it. I finished my banana and he finished his smoke, and he invited me to come in and listen. I had a rehearsal for a play at 9am, but I wasn't tired, so I went in. He said I was his guest and they waived the cover charge.

The club was a big room with all kinds of chairs to sit in, and everybody had their own booze. They didn't sell it. That's how they could stay open all night until morning, by not selling booze.

Seeing no free chairs, I stood in back and listened to the house band. One by one, they'd announce somebody and they'd join the band for a while, and I realized that the people who were playing were the best of the best,. They were the guys playing in all the Jazz clubs all over town, and they came here after their gigs to really let loose and connect with each other. I had found a kind of heaven on Houston St.

My mind was getting blown every three or four seconds, it was difficult to even be there, the energy in the room was like rolling perpetually in a big wave, it was overwhelming. I was swimming in a hyper-alive, pulsating, vibrating, multidimensional, multicolored rolling sea of complicated sound and it felt like forever.

Finally, they announced C Sharpe and he ambled up in a quick and smooth movement and kicked off an indoor lightning storm, raising the other musicians to a level of sound where I got lost in wondering if whether the experience was even real, or if it was a monumental dream that I was lucky enough to conjure, somehow.

Talking to him afterwards, over another smoke for him and a banana for me, I thanked him and tried to explain what I felt to him. He stopped me, certainly because I was making no sense, and said, "Stop talking, I can see it in your eyes.". And, I learned a great deal from that sentence. He flicked his smoke and I made a friend.

So, this is a painting of my friend, Clarence Hardy "C" Sharpe, at sunrise on Houston St. near Ludlow.

It's painted on sheet metal with aerosol, raw pigments and oils, oil crayon and pencil.